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For a few moments he stood t 
the unconscious girl, raised her. 


The Workingman’s Wife 


FROM THE GERMAN OF 

FRIEDRICH FRIEDRICH 


BY HETTIE E. MILLER 

TRANSLATOR OF “MADAME CHRYSANTHEME” ETC 



CHICAGO 

E. A. WEEKS & COMPANY 
276 & 278 Franklin St. 


Copyright 1894 by 
E. A. Weeks & Company 


The Workingman's Wi/e 



Typography by Charles H. Kerr & Company, Chicago 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


i. 

* 

Upon the terrace of a charmingly situated and taste- 
fully built country-house two young girls walked 
slowly arm-in-arm. They were at the most eighteen. 
Both were beautiful, in fact, it would have perplexed 
a judge as to which one to award the prize. 

Ina, the daughter of the wealthy merchant, Plat- 
ener, to whom the dwelling belonged, was one of 
those blondes who at the first glance attracts by the 
gentleness and purity of feature, in whose eyes beams 
true womanliness, who resembles a flower which 
carefully guarded, has never been touched by a breath 
of wind. Ina had known nothing all her life but 
happiness and love. She had indeed lost her mother, 
but she was at the time merely a child, and the wound 
was speedily healed, for her father lavished his entire 
wealth of affection upon her, and surrounded her with 
all the luxury his fortune allowed of. 

She was gay and sunny; her happiness was com- 
plete since her engagement to Lieutenant Rudolph 
v. Brankow whom she loved dearly, never dreaming 
that days of sadness might come. 

Her friend and companion, Johanna Mosen, was 
perhaps less beautiful, but her large, dark eyes gave 
to her face an intelligent expression; combined with 


6 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


gentleness there was a calm, firm look upon her face. 
She had suffered more than one bitter hardship in her 
life, although no complaint had passed her lips. 

Her father had been Ina’s father’s butler; the two 
girls had grown up together, and when Mosen died, 
two years before this story opened, Platener took his 
daughter’s playmate into his family, in order to pro- 
vide her with a faithful friend. He was aware of the 
maturity of the girl’s character, and Ina could not 
have found a better friend, a friend who never forgot 
that all the love she enjoyed was a gift only. 

“Where can Rudolph be to-day!” exclaimed Ina, 
glancing towards the road leading to town. “He 
promised me to come earlier than usual, and yet the 
time he generally comes is past.” 

“He has probably been detained,” said Johanna 
reassuringly. 

“He should not allow anything to detain him when 
he has made me a promise!” replied Ina with the 
irritation of a child accustomed to have its every wish 
fulfilled. “He knows that I expect him!” 

“Supposing his duties keep him?” said Johanna. 

“Johanna, you always excuse him!” returned the 
fair maiden with a smile, for she could not be vexed 
with her lover. “Do you know that before Rudolph 
told me of his love, I was jealous of you, for I fan- 
cied he loved you more than he did me.” 

Johanna turned away her head, a deep blush suffused 
her cheeks; purposely she dropped her handkerchief 
that she might relax her hold upon her friend’s arm. 
Ina must not feel the pulsation of her heart at those 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


7 


words, she must not see the flush which mantled her 
cheeks. The next moment she had regained her self- 
possession. 

“Why should he have loved me?” she asked calmly. 
“You are wealthy and lovely, and do you think he 
does not know that I am a butler’s daughter? If he 
is civil to me it is simply out of courtesy to you, for 
he can see how attached you are to me! He knows 
I will not misconstrue his attention!” 

“Johanna, you are not poor!” interrupted Ina, al- 
most impatiently. “You are my only friend and my 
father will do as much for you as he will for me. You 
know how fond he is of you.” 

“Yes, I think daily of how much I owe him,” said 
Johanna. “So much the less shall I forget how little 
claim I have.” 

“You are a simpleton,” cried Ina with a smile. 
“Are you not pretty and clever? Do you think I do 
not know how gladly men look into your eyes? Even 
Rudolph said to me recently, that he never saw more 
beautiful eyes than yours.” 

Johanna involuntarily started. Happy Ina did not 
notice it, for she continued: “I do not see why 
my father still defers making my engagement pub- 
lic! He likes Rudolph and seems really pleased that 
I am going to marry him.” 

“He must be very busy; for days he has talked less 
than usual.” 

“I wish he would retire from business and rest, he 
is rich enough,” said the girl 

“He is working for you,” replied Johanna. 


For 


8 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


he loves you devotedly and and wishes to make your 
future as bright as possible. ,, 

“Therefore he deprives himself of rest. I am sat- 
isfied with what he has. I wish for no other home 
than this, for here I became Rudolph’s betrothed. 
Our house in town is too large and gloomy. There 
comes Rudolph !” she interrupted herself, hastily 
dropped her friend’s arm and ran through the garden 
to meet him who was advancing. 

For several seconds Johanna watched her. How 
fortunate was she who could go to meet him and cast 
herself upon his breast! 

She re-entered the house, sought her room, closed 
the door behind her, cast herself into a chair and 
covered her face with both hands. She had not been 
deceived by Brankow’s glances. She recalled his 
every kind word, many of his trifling attentions — yes, 
he loved her. Had she been wealthy, he would have 
engaged himself to her; only their poverty — for he 
was poor too — had formed the gulf between him and 
her. 

She loved him too dearly to be angry with him. 
By him had the sentiment of love been first awakened 
in her youthful heart and as something sacred she 
hid it deep in her breast. 

Dared she love her friend’s betrothed, her friend to 
whom she owed so much? 

Firmly resolved to conceal her true feelings from 
both her friend and her lover, she left her room and 
repaired to the garden. As she paced to and fro 
alone, her strength for a moment deserted her, and 
she leaned against a tree-trunk for support. 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


9 


“Johanna, where are you?” called her friend. 

“We have sought you everywhere,” added the lieu- 
tenant, extending his hand to Johanna. Again his 
eyes rested passionately upon her, he held her right 
hand firmly in his. “Your hand trembles,” he con- 
tinued, “are you ill?” 

With all her strength the girl strove for composure. 

“I was seized with sudden dizziness, therefore I 
leaned against the tree.” 

Ina embraced her friend anxiously and tenderly. 

“I will escort you into the house!” cried Brankow. 

“No, no,” replied Johanna quietly, drawing herself 
up. “It was merely a feeling of momentary weak- 
ness, which I have had before. It is over — I am per- 
fectly well again.” 

She glanced at her friend with a smile, and that 
smile reassured Ina who had no supicion of its pain- 
ful cause. 

Brankow’ s eyes were keener, he shook his head. 

“Were the dizziness to return?” he asked. “I pray 
you, lean on my arm.” 

“Do so, Johanna,” implored Ina. 

“I feel all right,” returned Johanna. “I only re- 
quire rest.” 

She kissed her friend’s brow and hastened toward 
the house. 

Half an hour later Platener drove home from town 
in his carriage. Johanna met him and was terrified 
when she saw the man’s pale face. 

“Herr Platener, what has happened?” cried she 
fearfully. 


IO 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


“Nothing — nothing, child!” replied the merchant 
quickly, seeking to avoid her eyes. “Nothing has 
happened!” he repeated as if anxious to emphasize 
his words. “Where is Ina?” 

Johanna informed him that she was on the terrace 
with her lover. 

“Leave her there — leave her,” continued Platener, 
with difficulty alighting from the carriage. “Do not 
tell them that I have come back,” he added. 

With an effort he drew himself up and turned to- 
wards the house; once he was forced to stop and catch 
his breath. 

“You are ill,” said Johanna anxiously. 

Yes, lam ill,” replied Platener, “I feel ill and weak, 
but do not tell Ina — she must not know it.” 

“I shall send immediately for a doctor,” said 
Johanna, preparing to enter the house, in order to 
call a servant and to send him to town. 

The merchant seized her hand and detained her. 

“Stay here, my child, I want no doctor!” said he. 
“He cannot help me either, all I require is — rest, 
rest !” 

He passed his hand over his brow. 

“I will find it,” he then added, “so do not tell Ina 
that I have returned home; I have come home late 
many times, it will not arouse her suspicions. By 
her lover’s side she is happy. I do not wish to dis- 
turb that happiness. Let her enjoy it — as long as 
possible.” 

On reaching his room, he sank exhausted into a 
chair. Johanna fetched him a glass of wine. When 


I HE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


II 


she returned he sat there still, his face buried in both 
hands, oblivious of her presence. 

Only when she drew near him and said: “Please 
drink this!” did he remGve his hands slowly and she 
started in affright at the expression upon his face. A 
few seconds he stared at her fixedly, as if he did not 
know her, then he hastily swallowed the wine. A 
deep sigh escaped his breast. 

“I have over-estimated my strength and worked 
too much,” said he. “I need rest. Johanna, do you 
think Ina will be happy with Brankow?” 

Surprised at the question, the girl glanced at him 
in silence. 

“Do you think that under all circumstances he will 
remain true to her,” he continued, “that he will never 
desert her, no matter what turn fortune may take? 
Ina is good, her heart, however, is too tender for the 
experiences of life; as soon as trouble comes to her, 
she will succumb if she has not firm support. Will 
Brankow possess sufficient strength?” 

“Yes, I believe so,” replied Johanna. “He is her 
ideal. What could befall her, for she is surrounded 
by happiness!” she added. 

Half-absently Platener stared into space. 

“Do you not know how fickle fortune is?” said he 
then. “Does she not often take pleasure in plunging 
into grief those whom she has just shone upon? Have 
you never heard that upon those whom thousands 
have envied, fortune has suddenly turned her back, 
and that they did not possess the strength to struggle 
with the waves which threatened them? Ha, ha! In 


12 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


poems such a change of fortune is often depicted, we 
do not believe it because it seems impossible to us, 
and yet life is harder and more terrible than poets 
picture it!” 

“You are ill !” cried Johanna anxiously. “Shall I 
not send for the doctor?” 

Platener shook his head in the negative. 

“I will try to compose myself,” he replied. “The 
excitement will leave me when I sleep — yes, I shall 
sleep. No one — no one must disturb me, tell the 
servants so. Now, rejoin Ina, and let your anxious 
face betray nothing. Tell her, I sent a messenger 
from town and informed you that I should return 
home late. She must sleep when Brankow leaves 
her. Now, go — go, Johanna, and send me by the 
servant another bottle of wine — it will do me good.” 

He held Johanna’s hand in his and pressed it firmly, 
he looked into her eyes — then he gently pushed her 
toward the door. 

She gave the servant his master’s order, she heard 
it obeyed, and Platener lock the door behind him. 
Anxiously she paused in the ante-room to listen, for 
she had never seen her friend’s father so agitated. 
Was he more indisposed than he himself believed? 
But as everything in Platener’s room was silent, she 
crept softly away, for she thought the sleep for which 
he longed, had come to his aid. 

She passed through the garden and joined Ina and 
Brankow who still sat on the terrace, heedless in their 
bliss that time was flying. It was evening when Ina 
inquired for her father; then Johanna informed her 
that he would return from town late* 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


13 


“He did not speak of it at noon,” said Ina. 

“Several hours ago he sent word by a messenger,” 
said Johanna in reply. “I did not tell you lest it 
might make you uneasy.” 

Ina glanced gratefully at her friend. 

It was rather late when Brankow left for town. Ina 
accompanied him to the garden gate, and then re- 
paired to her room. 

Johanna went too in order to assist her in disrob- 
ing, and afterward seated herself at the bedside of 
the happy girl who for some time talked of her lover’s 
kindness of heart and good qualities without suspect- 
ing how heavy her friend’s heart was. 

At length Johanna leaned over Ina and cut short 
her words with a kiss, then she rose quickly in order 
to put on her night-dress. 

“I am tired!” said she. “Let us both go to sleep!” 

The following morning Johanna rose earlier than 
usual, for the thought of Ina’s father disturbed her. 
Might he not be seriously ill? His excitement on the 
preceding evening had been so great. She softly ap- 
proached his door and listened — all was silent within, 
he seemed to be still asleep. Reassured she withdrew 
and bade the servant let no one awaken his master. 

An hour later there arrived in apparently the great- 
est agitation, a man whom she had recently seen 
very often at Platener’s house; it was the broker, 
Moses Kronberg. She essayed to retire as soon as 
she saw him, for the short, ugly man, upon whose 
face was constantly a grinning smile, whose eyes 
roved about slyly, whose clothes were so untidy, 


H 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


who showed a dog-like submission towards Platener 
and even bore insults in silence, had repelled her from 
the beginning. She could not understand how the 
wealthy and proud merchant could allow that man 
to cross his threshold. 

Indeed he had, when Ina one day expressed her 
surprise, replied with a slight shrug of his shoulders: 
“Child, business brings unpleasantness which can not 
be avoided.” But those words had not lessened her 
dislike of the man in the least. 

The broker followed her and called her. Impa- 
tiently she turned, for the man had never dared to 
do that. 

“I wish to speak to Herr Platener,” said he, draw- 
ing near Johanna. 

His entire manner seemed to have changed; he 
scarcely raised his dirty hat, he stepped out boldly, 
while formerly he had only advanced with many 
bows. 

“Herr Platener is still asleep,” said Johanna in re- 
ply, preparing to proceed. 

“Herr Platener is still asleep?” repeated Moses 
Kronberg with a scornful smile. “And I say, he is 
not asleep.” 

Indignant at his impertinence, Johanna raised her 
head. Should she answer the obnoxious fellow? 

“Fraulein, Moses Kronberg is too shrewd to allow 
himself to be deceived,” continued the broker. “Were 
you to say to me, Herr Platener has gone away, I 
would tell you whither he has gone. Would he sleep 
when to-day is the finale and he has so much to con- 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


15 


ceal? But if he is still here, then tell me, for I must 
speak to him. I did not come so early for nothing; 

I have a bill against him, and if he can yet pay, he 
must pay me first.” 

Johanna scarcely understood those words and still 
they rang in her ears. She recalled his agitation of 
the evening, she saw the broker’s impertinence — her 
thoughts began to grow confused. 

“What has happened?” she exclaimed anxiously. 

“What has happened?” repeated the broker, shrug- 
ging his shoulders. “Herr Platener wanted to do too 
much business and miscalculated. He is not the first 
who has done so and will not be the last. What 
does it concern me if he pays me what he owes me? 
He can then disappear, I shall not betray him.” 

Indescribable anxiety possessed Johanna, she was 
obliged to lean upon a chair with her right hand in 
order not to fall, her eyes were fixed upon the man. 
Was it possible that he spoke the truth? It could 
not be; the wealthy merchant’s large fortune could 
not have disappeared like a fleeting shadow. 

Scarcely knowing what she did, she hastened to 
Platener’s room. The door was still locked, she 
tapped but received no answer. 

“He is sleeping soundly,” said Kronberg scornfully. 
He had followed her, unknown to her. “I will 
knock 1” and he knocked at the door so loudly that 
it resounded through the house. 

“Open! open !” he exclaimed. “Do you still think he 
is asleep? The bird has flown — he has flown with- 
out having paid me — I am an abused man!” 


i6 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


“No, no, he can not have flown!” cried Johanna; 
she could say no more. 

“I will consider myself secured,” continued Kron- 
berg. “I will take what I can find, for I am the first 
of all his creditors who came here. All can not be 
lost, he has still valuables, furniture, horses!” 

Platener’s servant and coachman were aroused by 
the loud knocking. 

In amazement they looked at the broker who called 
to them: 

“He has flown — flown! He has deceived us all!” 

The servant tried to open the door, after he had 
knocked again and received no reply; he bore his 
weight against it, and as Kronberg helped him, the 
lock gave and the door flew open. 

Upon the sofa, lay Platener evidently asleep. 

“He is asleep!” cried the servant softly, seeking to 
hold back those who were pressing forward. 

“Would he sleep through knocking such as would 
awaken the dead,” replied the broker, entering the 
room and approaching the sofa. “He is dead— dead !” 
cried he. “He has departed this life without paying 
his creditors.” 

Johanna rushed into the room; with horror she 
gazed upon the man lying there pale and motionless. 
His eyes were still half-open, not a muscle moved, 
his left hand hung lifelessly by his side. With a 
loud, despairing cry she sank beside the sofa. 

“He is dead!” exclaimed the servant and the coach- 
man simultaneously, seizingtheir dead master’s hand 
—it was already cold. 


THE WORKINGMAN^ WIFE 


1 7 


The servant then saw that the broker was busy at 
his master’s desk. He had opened the drawer and 
stretched out his hand towards a small case contain- 
ing several valuable rings. Rapidly he sprang upon 
him and held his arm tightly. 

“What are you looking for here?” he exclaimed. 

Fearfully Moses Kronberg drew back. 

“I am looking to see if the deceased has not left 
me the money he still owes me,” he replied. And as 
the servant involuntarily raised his hand to punish the 
man who at Platener’s death-bed had no other thought 
than of his losses, he crept servilely from the room 
and gazed half-shyly, half-longingly through the doors 
of the ante-room. Then he called out: “He took 
his life because he could not pay his creditors. To- 
day he was ruined,” 

The deceased lay calmly there, no wound was 
visible. Why had he locked himself in? Had he really 
taken his life or had he been killed by a strange hand? 
The servant as well as the coachman could not believe 
the first, for they could not comprehend that he was 
no longer rich. He still owned the large business and 
a house in town, he had still his fine country-house, 
carriages and horses. The window, through which 
a murderer might have entered, was open; upon the 
writing-table lay papers in wild disorder, as if a hand 
had examined them hastily. 

“He was murdered!” cried the servant half-aloud. 
“The murderer entered there, — here he attacked the 
sleeper.” 

Johanna slowly raised herself. The word “mur- 


18 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


derer” resounded in her ears, and she then remem- 
bered the difficult duty which lay before her. She 
must prepare Ina for the worst, for the girl could not 
see her father thus; the shock would kill her. 

Quickly collecting her strength she left the room 
in order to hasten to her friend, who perhaps was still 
asleep, dreaming of happiness and love. 

The butler once again approached his master and 
after convincing himself that Re was dead, he locked 
the door and put the key in his pocket that no one 
might enter the room. 

The coachman had already hastened away and 
harnessed up the horses in order to go into town to 
give notice of his master’s death. 

Moses Kronberg had not yet left the house; he 
repeatedly tried to approach the butler, thinking he 
might learn some details of Platener’s death which 
might be of use to him. What cared he that all the 
servants were white with fear, what cared he for the 
piercing shrieks which issued from Ina’s room. 

He merely shrugged his shoulders and said to him- 
self: “She is crying because she has suddenly be- 
come poor. Had Platener been shrewder he would 
have arranged matter for her before he committed 
suicide; his death will surprise many.” 

Once more he tried to approach the butler who 
forcibly put him out of the house. 

Johanna sat beside her friend who, completely over- 
come, lay upon the sofa. She held her right hand 
in both of hers and gazed anxiously upon Ina’s pale 
face. 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


19 


As she entered Ina’s room, the latter read at once 
from her countenance that something dreadful had 
happened. Cautiously, slowly she wished to prepare 
her friend; she tojd her that during the night her 
father had been- taken violently ill and only with diffi- 
culty could she restrain her from going to him — then 
Ina heard one of the maids exclaim: 11 He is dead , 
he has been murdered with a shriek she swooned. 

Johanna placed her upon a sofa and seated herself 
beside her. Might not that heavy blow endanger her 
life? She longed to speak words of comfort to her, 
but not a sound could she utter. 

The unhappy girl did not yet know the worst and 
she seemed to be heart-broken. 

From Platener’s and Kronberg’s words Johanna 
concluded that Platener had lost his fortune and in 
despair had taken his life, because he had not the 
courage to bear the loss. She did not consider her- 
self, although the loss of her benefactor would bring 
about a great change in her life. She felt strong 
enough to fight the battle of life, but what would be- 
come of Ina? Could she live without wealth and 
luxury? Surely, she had one left, she was betrothed, 
and the man to whom her heart belonged, must be- 
come her support and try to replace what she had 
lost. 

“Ina, compose yourself, speak but one word!” be- 
sought Johanna, whom her friend’s unconscious con- 
dition inspired with anxiety. 

The girl opened her eyes, half-raised herself and 
weeping passionately fell on her breast* 


20 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


In the meantime Platener’s carriage had returned 
from town bringing the lawyer, the doctor and a police 
officer. The butler led them into the chamber of 
death, he told them how the roopi had been opened 
and how they had found the dead man, he mentioned 
the names of those present at the time. 

“Is everything as you found it?” asked the officer. 

“Yes,” replied the servant. “Kronberg wanted to 
examine the desk, but I prevented him, for I sus- 
pected him of some dishonest purpose. Then I locked 
the door and took the key; since then no one has 
been in.” 

“Nor you either?” asked the officer. 

“Nor I either,” assured the servant. 

“Were the papers already on the writing-table in 
this disorder?” 

“Yes.” 

“And was this window open?” 

“Yes.” 

The officer walked to the window and looked out, 
it was on the ground floor and easy to reach from 
without; his keen eyes seemed to search for foot- 
prints. He found nothing. 

“Did you hear no noise in the night?” he asked. 

“Not the slightest,” said the servant. 

Where do you sleep?” 

“Here, over this room.” 

“Perhaps you sleep soundly.” 

“No, I always heard my master call me in the 
night.” 

Meanwhile the doctor approached the corpse and 
examined it, 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


21 


“x\ll symptoms point to poisoning,” said he. The 
lawyer and officer joined him. 

“There are no signs of violence visible,” continued 
the doctor. “His position is such an easy one that 
at first I thought he had had a stroke of paralysis; 
such is, however, not the case, various signs point 
to death by poisoning.” 

The officer’s eye quickly ran around the room; he 
was looking for some vessel in which the poison had 
been kept. 

“Do you think that he was murdered?” he asked. 

“That is scarcely possible, for nothing points to a 
struggle. The dead man would have called for help.” 

Assentingly the commissioner nodded his head, he 
had the same conviction and only wished to hear the 
fact confirmed by the doctor. 

“Is it possible that as he lay upon the sofa and 
slept the poison was given to him?” he asked still 
farther. 

“I do not consider it possible,” was the doctor’s 
reply. 

The officer approached the table and took up the 
wine-glass standing upon it. 

“Have you examined this glass?” he asked. 

“Not yet,” replied the doctor, taking the glass in 
which the dregs of wine still remained. He smelt it. 
“This contained no poison, I am sure, for neither the 
odor nor the color of the wine has been changed in 
the least,” he continued. “Did you hear the rumor 
about town this morning? Platener is said to have 
lost his entire fortune on the Exchange, he was to- 


22 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


day to have paid sums which far exceeded his fort- 
une.” 

“I have heard so, but I did not wish to allow my- 
self to be influenced by it in the examination,” said 
the commissioner. “My suspicion that no crime but 
a suicide has been committed is gaining strength. I 
knew Platener personally and know that he would 
not be able to bear such a loss. Fortune was too 
long favorable to him and robbed him of his strength 
to battle with misfortune. Perhaps there is among 
is papers something that will explain matters to us.” 

With the lawyer he walked to the table; both ex- 
amined the papers. They hoped that Platener had 
left a letter to his daughter, but they found none. The 
papers consisted chiefly of business papers, without 
giving any clew to the condition of his finances. Only 
one letter begun to Moses Kronberg gave the slight- 
est clew. It ran thus: 

“You have plunged me into misfortune, now save 
me, or I am lost. I followed your advice when I em- 
barked in the speculations on the Bourse. You drove 
me farther and farther, in order to make good my 
losses; I followed your advice, for I only discovered 
later on, that you were thinking simply of your own 
gains, that you sacrificed me for your advantage in 
the most shameful manner. You are worse than a 
robber, for against such a person there is no protec- 
tion. You deceived and cheated me under the mask 
of friendship and honor. Now save me, or I will 
publicly expose you, I will expose you as the cheat 
you are, I will ” 

Here the letter, dated two days before, was broken 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


23 


off. Platener seemed to have discovered that it 
would avail him nothing, still those lines were of 
great importance. 

“I will take this letter with me,” said the lawyer, 
as he put the writing in his pocket-book. “Did you 
not say that Kronberg was here this morning?” he 
asked the butler. 

“He came very early and said he had a bill against 
my unfortunate master.” 

“And that he wished to settle in order to get ahead 
of the other creditors,” remarked the commissioner. 
“I know that man and his ways. Platener was right, 
he is worse than a robber, for he plunders those who 
confide in him, and would not even spare his friends, 
had he any. The worst is that he does everything 
under the cloak of righteousness and is shrewd enough 
not to break the law, although his deed be the most 
shameful 1” 

“Perhaps there may be a clause in the law which 
would punish him!” said the lawyer. 

The officer shrugged his shoulders doubtfully. “1 
scarcely think so,” he replied. “These people study 
the law very carefully, not in order to keep it, but to 
evade it! Does your master’s daughter know of 
what has happened?” he said to the servant. 

“She only knows that he is dead.” 

“Has she seen him?” 

“No.” 

“Then do not tell her that he took his own life. 
It is a heavy blow which has come upon her without 
any preparation, in the midst of happiness.” 


24 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


“None of us suspected that Herr Platener had lost 
heavily,” said the servant. “We all considered him 
very wealthy, for up to the last moment we were not 
forced to practice economy.” 

The corpse was borne into another chamber, and 
the room in which Herr Platener died, locked. The 
lawyer took the key. 

The officer examined the garden and not far from 
Platener’s bed-room window he found a flask which 
had contained the poison that destroyed the merchants 
life. It seemed to have been his object to cast sus- 
picion from himself; the means he had taken to do 
so, betrayed plainly the excitement of his mood; he 
seemed not to have any longer the strength to con- 
sider calmly. Surely it must have cost him a pang 
to leave the life which had offered him so many joys. 


II. 


The news of Platener’s suicide reached town with 
marvelous rapidity and called forth the greatest sur- 
prise. Many knew that he had speculated on the 
Bourse and sustained heavy losses; but no one sus- 
pected that they were as heavy as they really were. 

The rumor was, therefore, circulated that Platener 
had cheated many poor families who had entrusted 
their money to him, considering it safe. It was un- 
true, but nevertheless it was credited and hatred of 
the deceased became hourly more intense. When 
Platener’s coachman drove into town at noon to fetch 
a doctor for Ina who was overcome by grief, the 
anger of the mob increased as soon as the vehicle 
was recognized. 

Several urchins flung stones at the horses. That 
was the signal for a general attack. The horses grew 
restless, in vain did the coachman seek to control 
them, his strength was insufficient. The spirited 
animals rushed into the midst of the throng; they 
tramped upon a boy over whom the carriage passed. 

An angry shout was heard. 

“He has run over a boy, he drove the horse over 
him purposely! Drag the wretch from his box and 
strike him down!” cried the infuriated mob. “He is 
no better than his master — like master, like man! 

25 



"He has run over a boy, he drove the horses purposely over him' 
cried the infuriated mob.— Page 25. 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


27 

Strike him down! Avenge the boy whom he ran 
over!” 

Several sprang upon the carriage in order to seize 
the terrified coachman, when a couple of officers came 
to his aid and took him, for safety, to the nearest 
station. 

The anger of the mob was thereby increased; at 
first, it was undecided what to do. Then a loud voice 
cried from its midst: “Come, to the deceiver’s 
house, we will raze it to the ground and avenge those 
who have been cheated.” 

The words rang out like a command, a signal for 
the fight. Hooting and yelling the mob passed on 
to Platener’s house. 

On arriving there, it found policemen at the door. 
Threats were uttered, but a few of the noisiest were 
arrested and the rest turned away. 

Moses Kronberg was seen in the midst of the ex- 
cited throng. He was seen by the commissioner in- 
citing the angry people. 

The commissioner caused his arrest and a short 
time thereafter had him brought to his office in order 
to examine him. Outwardly humble, but secretly 
defiant Kronberg entered. His eyes seemd to say: 
“Who can accuse me? What I have done is not 
against the law; I know the law and know how it 
can be evaded without involving oneself.” 

“Sir,” said he, as he stood there with bowed head. “I 
have been arrested by the polic'e and know not why. 
I am a peaceable man, who has never done anyone 
harm. I have never broken the law. I go quietly 


28 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


about my work and am satisfied if I can earn a living 
in an honest way. I ask no more. My friends al- 
ways say of me: ‘ Moses Kronberg could do well 
were he not so conscientious;’ but my conscience is 
more valuable to me than business.” 

Impatiently the commissioner, who knew the man’s 
character, interrupted him: 

“In what relations did you stand to Platener?” he 
asked. 

Kronberg looked at him in surprise, as if he did not 
understand the question. 

“In what relations?” he repeated. “Herr Platener 
was a wealthy man and I am a poor broker who is 
thankful for employment. Would the rich, proud 
man, who rode in his own carriage, have had any re- 
lations with poor Kronberg?” 

“You had business relations with him,” interpolated 
the commissioner. “He speculated through you on 
‘Change. ’” 

“Sir, I should have been happy had the wealthy 
merchant had business relations with me, had I had 
an account in his book. Herr Platener sent for me 
one day, and did me the honor to summon me into 
his private room. ‘Kronberg,’ said he to me, ‘I 
know you to be an honest man, therefore I wish to 
ask your advice. Tell me frankly, do you consider 
these stocks good or bad; as everyone is speculating 
and making money, I wish to do so too.’ And I gave 
him my opinion, as well as I could.” 

“Did Platener never commission you to buy or sell 
for him on ‘Change?’” 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


2g 


“Certainly, because he could not go there daily 
himself. I only did as he bade me.” 

“Did he pay you for it?” 

“He was a generous man, who asked no service for 
nothing.” 

“How long were you connected with him in this 
way ?” 

“It may have been a year and a half; I am not 
positive as to that.” 

“How much did you earn through Platener in that 
time?” 

The question did not seem entirely welcome to the 
man. He hesitated a moment and his eyes roved 
around the room as if he hoped to find some means 
of exit. 

“How do I know?” he replied with a sly smile. 
“What he paid me, I used to live on.” 

“Did you not write it down?” 

“Why should I?” 

“You must surely know how much you received?” 
persisted the commissioner. 

“I do not know,” replied Kronberg. 

“Well, I hope we shall be able to find out from 
Platener’s books.” 

“Do you know if they are correct?” remarked the 
broker. “Might he not have written down that he 
gave me so-and-so much, and have then used the 
money for something else?” 

“How should you form such a suspicion?” inter- 
rupted the commissioner. “You accuse him of falsify- 
ing; have you any proof of it?” 


3d 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


In terror Kronberg recoiled; he regretted the words 
he had uttered. 

“I accuse no one— I have no suspicion!” he replied. 
“You must have misunderstood my words — would I 
accuse Herr Platener? I always liked him. I only 
mentioned a possibility, and a possibility is no ac- 
cusation.” 

“Platener lost large sums, yes, his entire fortune 
through you.” 

“Through me?” cried Kronberg. 

“He followed your advice, and you urged him on 
in the dangerous venture.” 

“He did not always follow my advice; wealthy and 
proud gentlemen think they know more than any one 
else. I often warned him, he did not heed me! And 
if he had taken my advice, was he forced to do so? 
Was he not a man who knew what he was about? 
He is now dead, and cannot say how honest and up- 
right I always was with him. He would say so, for 
it is true.” 

“He maintains just the opposite,” said the commis- 
sioner. 

“With regard to whom? He is dead!” cried the « 
broker. 

“He left it in writing!” 

Moses half-closed his eyes as if by that means he 
would the better conceal what was taking place 
within him. 

“You are silent.” 

“How can I answer, if I do not know what he 
wrote? And if I say he wrote an untruth, would you 
not have to believe me as much as him?” 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


3 1 


“That the attorney-general will inquire into,” re- 
plied the commissioner. “Platener accuses you of 
having brought about his whole misfortune. How 
far that is true, the examination will prove. What 
were you doing in the mob to-day, when Platener’s 
coachman was attacked?” 

“Nothing. I was accidentally passing through the 
street, when the people streamed in from all sides. 

I could go neither forward nor backward.” 

“I require you to speak the truth. I myself saw 
you urge on the men, you seemed to be pointing to 
something ” 

“I was simply trying to make my way through the 
crowd.” 

“That was not your purpose. Did you not s jy 
that Platener lost everything on the Bourse?” 

Kronberg glanced at the commissioner, half- 
shrewdly, half-fearfully. 

How did he know the words he had spoken? 

“And if I said so, was it not true?” he replied. 

“You said too that the horses cost more than two 
thousand dollars.” 

“They did, I know.” 

“But you knew that by those words you aggravated 
still more the already embittered mob.” 

“I aggravated no one. I wanted to calm the peo- 
ple; I mentioned the cost of the horses, that they 
might spare the valuable animals.” 

The commissioner saw that no frank confession 
could be obtained from the man who so skilfully 
evaded the truth; only by proofs could his guilt be 


32 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


established. He summoned an official to lead away 
the man. 

“Take the prisoner away,” he commanded briefly. 

“Whither?” asked Kronberg, who had reckoned 
upon his release. 

“To jail.” 

“What, to jail? I am innocent, sir, as sure as I 
stand before you ! I am a poor, abused man, will 
you plunge me into despair? Let me go, let me go 
free! Great God, Moses Kronberg in jail! And 
wherefore? Because he is innocent, because he 
honorably upheld Platener, because he tried to calm 
the excited mob! Is that justice? I protest against 
the force which is used .... I will appeal, I 
will. . . .” 

The commissioner signed to the official who seized 
Moses by the arm and led him out of the door. Even 
when it was closed upon him, the broker’s loud 
lamentations could be heard. 

“I am an abused man! They use force to me, al- 
though I am innocent! Is that justice?” 

At the same hour, at twilight, Johanna sat with Ina 
in her room. 

The unhappy girl as yet did not know of her 
father’s true fate. As yet she did not know that he 
had committed suicide, that she was poor, that her 
father’s creditors had been to the house and seized 
the furniture, carriages, horses, everything that he 
had left. 

To Ina’s grief was added another. That morning 
she had looked for her lover. 



4 I am an abused man! They use force to me, although I am inno- 
cent! Is that justice?” — Page 32. 


34 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


But the morning sped by and he did not come. In 
the afternoon Ina had sent a messenger to him and 
he had sent her word that he would come as soon as 
possible. It was already night, and Ina still awaited 
him in vain. 

She was in a state of feverish excitement. 

As yet no complaint had escaped her lips. 

“He does not come!” she exclaimed finally with an 
accent of unspeakable woe, bursting into tears. She 
cast herself upon her friend’s breast. 

“He will come,” thus Johanna sought to soothe her, 
“he must have been detained.” 

“Should he allow anything to detain him when he 
knows with what longing I await him?” continued 
Ina. “He is now the only one to whom I can cling! 
Should he not have hastened to me the moment he 
heard of my father’s death?” 

“Ina, he may come any minute, and then he will 
tell you what kept him,” said Johanna. “Do not ac- 
cuse him unheard.” 

But Rudolph von Brankow did not come, nor did 
he send any message. The following day dawned 
and closed — he came not. 

Hope began to desert Ina; in despair she wondered 
why he did not come. Had he ceased to love her? 
That could not be! 

More than once she started up to go to him, to 
learn from his own lips why he did not come, to read 
in his eyes that her fears had been in vain. Johanna 
detained her forcibly, although her strength would 
have been insufficient for such a step. 


THE WORKINGMAN* S WIFE 


35 


Her condition was indeed serious; the doctor whom 
they summoned, prescribed rest and care. How 
could she rest when her heart was racked by sorrow? 

Johanna likewise could find no reason for Bran- 
kow’s absence. Could she still bid Ina hope? When 
the latter looked at her in despair, she only seized 
her hand and pressed it to her lips. 

The second night passed and the girl obtained no 
repose. Only when morning broke, did exhaustion 
conquer pain, and sleep came to her relief. 

Softly Johanna left her friend’s side. 

She bade the maid remain with Ina. 

“If she awakes and asks for me, tell her I am 
asleep,’* she added, “that I was tired out. She will 
perhaps wish to rise and leave her room; do all you 
can to detain her until I have returned.” 

The maid promised to carry out her orders to the 
letter. She then left the house and proceeded to- 
wards town. Her knees trembled, for she had a diffi- 
cult task before her, and she set about it without hope; 
her firm will and the refreshing coolness of the morn- 
ing alone sustained her. 

She was going to Brankow to hear from his lips 
why he did not come to his betrothed. She must 
know if his love for Ina had died out, for the condition 
in which the unfortunate girl was, could not last 
longer. 

She still doubted that Brankow had purposely de- 
serted Ina; she hoped he would give her reasons 
which would justify him; she hoped so for her friend’s 
sake, for her own, for it was painful to her to think 


36 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


that she could not respect the man for whom her 
heart beat. 

What she was doing, was not for herself but for Ina 
whom she loved so dearly. 

Slowly she ascended the stairs; her heart beat so 
rapidly, so loudly, that she was forced to stand still 
more than once, in order to gain strength and com- 
posure. 

Her hand trembled when she rang the bell which 
led to the landlord’s apartments where Brankow 
lodged. 

A woman opened the door. 

“Is Lieutenant von Brankow at home?” inquired 
Johanna; she was barely able to ask the question. 

The woman glanced keenly at her; it struck her as 
strange that a young girl shjpuld call upon the lieuten- 
ant so early. 

“Certainly; do you wish to speak to him?” she 
asked at length. 

“Yes.” 

“Very well; there is his door; go in; hehasrisem 
for his servant fetched his coffee half an hour ago.” 

“No, no!” interrupted Johanna. “I can not go to 
him, will you allow me to sit in your room a few 
minutes?” 

Again the woman looked at her curiously. 

“Pray, come in,” said she then, preceding her. 

They passed Brankow’s room. 

Johanna entered the woman’s apartments and sank 
into a chair. 

“Give me a few moments,” she besought. 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


37 


She passed her hand over her brow; her strength 
was failing her, but she must accomplish her object. 

“What do you want with the lieutenant?” asked 
the woman curiously. 

“I must speak to him, but not for myself, for an- 
other.” 

“And you will not go to his room?” 

“No, I can not! — Can I not speak to him here?” 
asked Johanna. “You do not know what a favor 
you would confer! I will not intrude long!” 

“Shall I call the lieutenant?” 

“Yes — no, — not yet; give me another moment in 
which to compose myself,” replied Johanna, pressing 
her hand to her heart. “Now call him,” said she. 

“Shall I not tell him your name?” asked the wo- 
man. 

Johanna shook her head in the negative. 

The woman left the room. Johanna buried her 
face in both hands and when she slowly removed 
them, she seemed composed though her cheeks were 
strikingly pale. 

Brankow entered the room and paused in amaze- 
ment at the door. Then he collected himself and 
hastily advanced to Johanna who had arisen, and at- 
tempted to take her hand. 

Involuntarily Johanna recoiled, as she said: 

“I came hither for Ina. She does not know of the 
step I have taken, but in her name I ask you why 
you have not come to support her in her trouble?” 

The blood rushed from the lieutenant’s face, he 
evidently strove for composure. 


38 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


“I hoped Ina would understand my absence, ” he 
replied, “I hoped she would understand that — I did 
not come in order to spare her a painful explanation.” 

“A painful explanation?” repeated Johanna. “In- 
deed I do not understand you. What would you 
spare her?” 

Brankow could not conceal his embarrassment. 

“The whole town is talking of the fact that Ina’s 
father committed suicide, that he lost his entire fortune 
on the Bourse and that what % left is not enough to 
pay his creditors,” he said. “I heard it from men 
whose word I can not doubt. Therefore I am unfort- 
unately compelled to break our engagement.” 

“You are compelled — ” repeated Johanna. 

“My honor — my rank as an officer,” stammered 
Brankow. “Ina’s father is a suicide.” 

“Can Ina help that?” cried Johanna. “So that was 
the explanation you wished to spare her? Your love 
for her is dead — now that her father is dead! She 
surely never dreamed of this, for she believed in your 
assurances of love.” 

“Johanna, do not judge me too harshly!” implored 
Brankow. “I cannot accept such a fate, my life 
would be blasted. I have no fortune. In engaging 
myself to Ina, whom I esteem highly, I did not choose 
from my heart; had I been free to make my choice, I 
would not have selected Ina. Have you never 
divined that my heart was yours?” 

Johanna drew back indignantly. 

“Herr von Brankow, I thought your sense of honor 
would prevent you from insulting me!” she cried. 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


39 


“Is it an insult to confess that my heart belongs to 
you?” asked the lieutenant. 

“It is an insult since you have so shamefully de- 
serted my friend! I shall endeavor to comfort her by 
telling her she gave her heart to one unworthy of it!” 

“Johanna, do not be so hard on me !” said Brankow. 

“Do not call me by my given name; you have no 
right to do so; I have nothing more to say to you.” 

Johanna turned and walked to the window. 

For a moment Brankow looked after her; he felt 
impelled to approach her and take her hand, but he 
dared not. He left the room. 

When Johanna heard the door close upon him, her 
strength forsook her. She sank into a chair and 
buried her face in her hands. How could she tell her 
friend that she was given up and deserted? 

The woman, who in the adjoining room had heard 
every word, entered and sought to comfort her. 

“All men are alike,” said she. “What do they care 
if they break an innocent heart? I know that from 
experience and consider every girl lucky who makes 
the discovery before she is bound to a husband. Men 
do not know what love is, selfishness alone guides 
them.” 

Johanna rose, thanked the woman for her kindness 
and look leave of her. 

She left the town. Wearily and disheartened she 
walked along the road which she and Ina had so often 
traversed. At length she reached home. Ina was 
still asleep. She entered her friend’s room; at a sign 
from her the maid withdrew. 


4 o 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


How calmly the sleeping girl lay there. Sleep had 
for a short time banished all sorrow, her cheeks were 
faintly tinged with pink. How soon that would dis- 
appear when she learned that the last one to whom 
she was attached was lost. 

Silently she sank beside the bed. 

Ina opened her eyes and looked with a smile at her 
friend; her dreams still seemed to hover before her 
and to keep at a distance the remembrance of reality. 

“Is Rudolph here? ’’she cried. “He must he here! 
I dreamed of him and he was so kind and good.” 

Johanna turned away her head; it was painful to 
her to destroy that dream. 

“lohanna, what ails you?” asked Ina. “Is he not 
here?” 

Johanna shook her head. 

“And has he not sent word that he will come to- 
day?” continued Ina. “He must come, for I can no 
longer stand this yearning for him. How can he be 
so cruel?” 

Johanna clasped her friend in her arms — she could 
deceive her no longer. 

“Ina, forget him! He is not worthy of you!” she 
exclaimed. 

Ina gazed into her friend’s eyes. 

“Not worthy of me?” she repeated. “Can you say 
that of Rudolph?” 

“Forget him, forget him!” cried Johanna. “He is 
lost to you, he will never come again, he is not 
worthy of you.” 

Still Ina did not understand. 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


41 


“He will never come again? What has happened? 
Johanna, I beseech you, speak! Have you seen 
him?” 

“Yes, I have! I went to his house this morning 
to obtain an explanation — I did it for your sake!” 

“And he — and he?” interrupted Ina, breathlessly. 

“He wishes to be released, because your father— is 
dead!” 

Fixedly the unhappy girl stared at her friend. 
Could she trust her ears? Was what she had heard 
possible? Johanna was terrified. 

“Ina, forget him, he is not worth loving!” 

Ina did not reply, no word of complaint passed her 
lips. With a deep sigh she sank back upon her pil- 
low. In vain did Johanna seek to console her, she 
did not answer, she seemed not to hear her words, 
fixedly she stared before her. The intensity of her 
grief seemed to have affected her mind. 

An hour later an aunt came to take her from the 
house of mourning to live with her in some distant 
town. Ina was not in the least surprised; silently, 
with a nod of her head, she consented to go with 
her. 

She did not even ask to see her father, nor did she 
express a wish that her friend accompany her. 

When the carriage which was to take her to the 
station stood at the door and Johanna cast herself 
sobbing upon her breast, she said calmly, as if parting 
from a stranger: 

“Farewell, Johanna.” 

Not a tear entered her eye her voice did not trem- 


42 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


ble, her heart seemed to know no feeling of friend- 
ship. So she drove away. 

An hour afterward Johanna too left the house in 
which she had spent so many happy days, in order 
to return to her mother who lived in town. She was 
not able to attend her benefactor’s funeral. 

What hopes had once been hers, and now she took 
nothing with her, but the things which were hers — not 
even hope. 


III. 


Platener was buried without any display; not one 
of all those who had once been his friends and gladly 
enjoyed his hospitality, attended him to the grave. 
Not one word of compassion was heard for the 
suicide. 

Both of his houses were closed, for all within them 
belonged to his creditors. 

Kronberg had been released eight days after his 
arrest; although his conduct had been blamable, the 
attorney-general had not been able to find sufficient 
proofs to get a case against him. The sly broker had 
not broken the law; that his conduct from a moral 
standpoint condemned him, what cared he? 

Johanna had returned to her mother’s house. The 
sickly woman had, after her husband’s death, lived on 
money given her by Platener for her support ; so his 
sudden demise was doubly hard for her. Anxiously 
and hopelessly she looked towards the future and 
Johanna could not succeed in comforting her. In 
vain did she assure her that she would do all in her 
power to provide for her. 

In despair her mother shook her head. 

“Child,” she said, “do you not know how little is 
paid for woman’s work? Your fingers will become 
lame before you earn enough to support us. Your 
43 


44 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


strength will not hold out. Shall your youth be ren- 
dered miserable in the struggle for our daily bread?” 

“My strength will hold out,” she replied, for she 
was certain that she had a firm will, and by means 
of that she hoped to surmount all difficulties. 

From early morning until late at night she sat in 
her mother’s small, low mansard room and sewed. 
She had obtained work for one firm; how much she 
would receive she had not dared to ask. 

Her mother often besought her to take more rest. 

She would reply: “7 am not tired” and yet at 
night she felt that she was undertaking too much and 
wondered if she could stand it. Still she told herself 
she was happy compared with her friend. 

She had written to Ina, but as yet had received no 
reply, she scarcely expected one, for she knew the 
great sorrow which the unhappy girl had to over- 
come. 

On a dark, gloomy day Johanna was sitting alone 
in the room with her mother who had been bemoan- 
ing their lot. As the latter thought of the future she 
wept, and Johanna could scarcely find word with 
which to comfort her. A knock was heard at the 
door. 

The woman arose in order to open it, for visitors 
were rare in the small room, when the door opened 
and Kronberg’s ugly, black-haired head was 
thrust in. 

“May I come in?” he asked, entering without 
awaiting permission. 

Curiously, keenly his eyes roved about the cham- 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


45 


ber; the simplicity, the poverty of the same could 
not escape him. Involuntarily a slight flush suffused 
Johanna’s cheeks; she was not ashamed of her pov- 
erty, still it pained her that the man who had seen 
her under quite different circumstances, should see 
her thus. 

“I have been seeking you, Fraulein,” he turned to 
Johanna, “for days I have been seeking and could 
not find you. Finally I succeeded, and I did not 
hesitate to call on you.” 

Johanna’s mother, who did not know him, stepped 
forward and looked at him inquiringly. 

“I am the broker, Moses Kronberg,” said he, in- 
troducing himself. “I had the pleasure of making 
your daughter’s acquaintance at the home of Herr 
Platener! Platener is dead, I said to myself, you 
must find the fraulein, perhaps you can be of use to 
her, for Platener will not have provided for her, he 
left this life so suddenly. Kronberg has often as- 
sisted his friends.” 

Over the woman’s face flitted an expression of 
pleasure; she did not know the broker, and he 
seemed like a rescuer in time of need. 

“Thank you, I require no help,” said Johanna as 
she again took up her sewing and looked at it in or- 
der to escape the man’s eyes. Could he not read in 
her face that she had not spoken the truth? 

Her mother glanced at her half in surprise, half in 
impatience, for she could not understand her manner. 

“Johanna!” cried she reproachfully. 

“Fraulein, one should not reject a hand which is 


4 6 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


thrust out to help one!” said Kronberg “Fortune 
is fickle; to-day she shines upon some one with gifts, 
to-morrow, she turns her back upon them, then a 
friend is invaluable and Kronberg means well. 
Would I have sought you out and have offered you 
^my help if I were not sympathetic? Do not misun- 
derstand me; I did not come to transact business, I 
shall not demand back what I give you; I only wish 
to lighten your burden. Living is dear, you are used 
to luxury; why not live better if you can?” 

“I am not dissatisfied with my lot,” said Johanna 
in reply. 

“You have a grand mind, you yield to the inev- 
itable; but I can see by your pale cheeks how diffi- 
cult it is for you. Let Kronberg help you!” 

“I thank you!” said Johanna shortly and concisely. 

The broker shrugged his shoulders and looked at 
her mother inquiringly. That curt refusal vexed 
him; forcibly he restrained his anger. 

“On what shall you live?” he asked in his imper- 
tinent manner. “Platener can give you nothing 
more, for he is dead, and if he were not dead, he 
could give you nothing, for he would be a beggar!” 

Johanna did not show her vexation at those words. 

“You see I am working,” she replied. 

“What do you mean by working. Do you think 
you could earn enough to live on by sewing? Your 
hands are not used to work; your pretty fingers will 
become lame if Kronberg does not make it easier for 
you.” 

“I must once more reject your help!” exclaimed 


1 HE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 47 

Johanna, impatiently, as she proudly raised her head, 
“I do not need your aid!” 

“Johanna!” again cried her morther reproachfully. 

“Nevermind, madame!” The broker turned to 
the mother. “She will yet need my assistance! I 
am not sensitive and will come again in a little while 
for I know that want will have rendered her milder.” 

“You may save yourself the trouble,” said Johanna. 

“I will come,” replied Kronberg who was not to be 
daunted. “I am experienced and can see further 
than you. Moses Kronberg has seldom been mis- 
taken, — I will come again!” 

With a bow he left the room, opening the door 
just a little way and slipping through. 

Johanna’s mother gazed angrily at her daughter. 

“I can not comprehend why you refuse the hand 
of the man who so kindly offers us his help,” said 
she, as she heard Kronberg descending the steps. 
“Shall we not need help? You do not know how 
much is required; want will knock at the door only 
too soon.” 

Johanna slowly let her work fall into her lap. 

“Mother, you do not know the man, or you would 
not speak thus,” she said calmly. “He has never 
known any interest but his own; he would quietly 
allow us to starve if he had not some object in all 
this.” 

“What object could he have?” asked the woman. 

“I do not know. He surely does not pity us. I 
loathe him and shall never accept the slightest thing 
from him nor do I want him ever to come here 
again !” 



JTh e proprietor took her work and examined each piece closely. 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


49 


“Child, you are too severe,” said her mother. “I 
do not— doubt his good will, he is right too, your 
strength will not hold out. You can not earn enough 
to live upon, for, alas, I can not work.” 

“I will earn it !” assured Johanna. “I shall finish 
this work to-day. I will take it away at once and 
get my pay. It is the first I have earned and it will 
spur me on!” 

She resumed her work as she spoke. 

Her mother sank into a chair opposite her and 
looked at her sadly. Already the girl’s cheeks were 
pale, would they not become paler? 

Towards evening Johanna finished her work and 
with a feeling of delight she rolled it up to take it to 
the shop and to get her pay. 

With throbbing heart she entered the shop where 
she had obtained employment. 

The proprietor took her work and examined each 
piece closely. She had done' it very carefully and 
was disappointed that he did not express his satis- 
faction. 

He calculated the renumeration on a slip of paper, 
and then as if she were a beggar, he flung upon the 
counter two dollars and a few groschens for the work 
which had taken her two weeks and upon which she 
had worked from early morning until late at night. 

Almost terrified she drew back; the hand with 
which she was about to receive the money, fell to her 
side. 

“Well?” asked the merchant who noticed her hesi- 
tation. 


5 ° 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


“You must have made a mistake,” said she with 
difficulty. 

“I never make a mistake!” replied the merchant 
curtly. “This is the sum due you.” 

“I spent more than fourteen days on the work and 
took the greatest pains with it,” said Johanna. 

“That is not my business!” was the rude reply. “I 
have given you what the work is worth and what I 
always pay for it. Moreover, you must not forget 
that I did not urge the work upon you, rather you 
came to me and begged me for it. If you are not sat- 
isfied, you are free- to go elsewhere, but I doubt if 
you will receive more.” 

He turned and entered an adjoining room. 

Johanna took the paltry sum and hurried from the 
shop. 

That was the pay for her long and laborious work! 

The thought of the future lay heavy on her breast. 
Was it possible that they could live on such trifling 
pay? 

When they entered her mother’s little room, she 
sank upon a chair and sobbed violently. 

“Child, what has happened?” asked Frau Mosen 
approaching her. 

Johanna could not reply; when her mother repeated 
the question she gave her the money and cried “This 
—this is all I received.” 

With a mournful expression the mother looked at 
her disappointed child. 

“I knew you would not get any more,” said she. 
“I had not the heart to tell you, because I did not 
want to discourage you.” 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


51 

“Mother, I can not work for such wages, for we 
would starve, were we ever so economical!” she ex- 
claimed. “I must find some way to manage. I will 
spare no trouble, I will work day and night. I ask 
no more than to live!” 

The mother maintained silence and gazed sadly be- 
fore her. 

“Is there no way?” asked Johanna once more. 

“Child, you will find work which will pay better,” 
replied the woman against her convictions. “And 
was not a man here who voluntarily offered us his 
help?” 

“Mother, you know that I will never accept any- 
thing from him ; I would rather starve !” cried Johanna. 
“I do not despair of succeeding by my own exer- 
tions.” 

Her mother made no reply; she retired early, while 
Johanna remained seated at the window. 

The following morning she left the house in order 
to seek work, as she told her mother. But another 
object took her out. In her pocket she had several 
presents given her on birthdays and Christmas by Ina 
and her father, — she wanted to sell them. 

With trembling hands she gave up the trinkets 
which were so dear to her. She received enough 
from their sale to keep the wolf from the door for a 
time while she sought other work. 

When she returned home, she handed her mother 
the money. 

“Where did you get this”? asked her mother in as- 
tonishment. 


52 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


Johanna told her that she had sold her jewelry. 

Tears filled the mother’s eyes. 

“Child why did you do that?” 

“Do you think, mother,” replied Johanna calmly, 
“that I could wear the ring and bracelets now? The 
memories connected with them are too painful. 

“Child, do not despair,” said the woman, “happier 
and better days will come for you, in which you can 
again buy what you have given up to-day; your heart 
is so true and good, that I should doubt the Al- 
mighty’s justice, did not your life become brighter.” 

Johanna turned away in silence. 


IV. 


Johanna’s efforts to obtain work which would pay 
better were in vain. 

She was determined to leave no stone unturned 
until she earned sufficient to assure hers and her 
mother’s maintenance. 

An acquaintance advised her to turn to the principal 
of a Union for the Improvement of Women, and she 
had done so, hoping in that way to find help. 

She told her mother of her hopes in that direction. 
The latter could not conceal her fears of another dis- 
appointment. But she did not say anything to dis- 
courage her daughter. 

Johanna repaired to the principal of the union, who 
on hearing her story gave her a dissertation on the 
rights of women, promised to aid her and invited her 
to spend that evening at the union, in order that she 
might be inspired by their great work. 

Johanna for^a moment looked in confusion at the 
woman. She had come thither in the hope of finding 
employemnt and instead she had received several 
cards to an “evening” at the union. She then left 
the room to return home. The stately woman had 
promised her aid, and her face was too honest for 
her to break her word. 

Her mother glanced inquiringly at her as she en- 
tered. 


53 


54 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


“The principal received me very kindly and prom- 
ised to help me,” said Johanna. 

When evening came, she kissed her mother and 
hastily left the room. 

The hall in which the “evening” was held, was al- 
ready filled when she entered. Scarcely had the prin- 
cipal espied her, than she hastened to her and led 
her to a chair. 

She listened to a speech on the freeing of women 
from bondage delivered by the principal, Auguste 
Schulze; to the recitation of several poems by a young 
girl who had little or no talent; to another speech, 
and at length the “evening” closed. Then the prin- 
cipal cordially informed Johanna that she looked upon 
her as a member of their union and hoped she would 
attend their meetings regularly. 

Johanna promised without realizing what she said. 
She had only one thought: to obtain work for the 
support of her mother and herself. Timidly she ex- 
pressed that wish to the stately lady whose face at 
once assumed an impatient expression as she informed 
her that she must follow her aim and assume no 
other cares. 

With bowed head Johanna stood there. She had 
sought help and all that was given her was high sound- 
ing words. Tears rushed to her eyes. 

“I do not know what to do if I do not find work,” 
said she. 

“Do not lose courage,” continued Auguste. “We 
women must learn to act independently. Go to- 
morrow towards noon to the secretary of our union, 


THE WORKINGMAN^ WIFE 


55 


to Frau Veilchen Lacherlich. I will talk with her 
this evening, and I am sure she will do all she can to 
help you.” 

Johanna returned home. It was late and she 
walked hastily. Softly she entered her mother’s 
room and laid down. The latter asked her no ques- 
tions although she was awake; nor the next morning 
did she ask anything, for she read upon her daugh- 
ter’s pale cheeks more than she cared to know. 

Johanna herself told her that the principal of the 
union had referred her to Frau Veilchen Lacherlich. 

“Shall you go to her?” asked her mother. 

“Yes, although I have little confidence in her. She 
seems to be vain and to think only of herself.” 

A few hours later Johanna repaired to Frau Veil- 
chen Lacherlich’s house. 

A servant led the nervous girl into her mistress’ 
room, where she waited some time, meanwhile glanc- 
ing around the room so luxuriously furnished and yet 
so untidy! 

How charming it would have been had it been in 
order! How would she have guarded such things! 
Upon a table lay costly books and among them in 
wild disorder hair-pins, trinkets and the remains of a 
roll. 

After some time Frau Veilchen Lacherlich finally 
entered and Johanna advanced shyly to meet the un- 
tidy, out-at-elbows woman who entered. 

“I applied to Fraulein Schulze for work,” said 
Johanna. 

“Fraulein Schulze told me about it,” said Frau 


56 


THE WORKINGMAN^ WIFE 


Lacherlich, assuming a cold, supercilious expression. 
“I must frankly confess that we do not take an in- 
terest in such common matters, for they would take 
our thoughts from higher things; yet I will do some- 
thing for you. Can you sew and embroider?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, here are a dozen handkerchiefs; hemstitch 
them and embroider V. L. upon them. I wish to 
call your attention to the fact that I am painfully neat 
and particular, I therefore expect you to be very 
careful with them. Lord, at least ten girls have 
asked me for these handkerchiefs; I show great con- 
fidence in giving you the work. I call your attention 
to the fact once more that I am so particular that it 
is impossible for me to use a handkerchief which has 
not been carefully embroidered. I am quite ex- 
hausted — now go!” 

She sank into a chair and signed to Johanna to 
leave the room. 

With trembling hands Johanna gathered together 
the handkerchiefs. She would have preferred to re- 
fuse them and yet she dared not. 

In silence she bowed and left the room. 

With difficulty she restrained the tears which filled 
her eyes, wherefore she wept, she could not tell. 

As she ascended the stairs to her mother’s apart- 
ments, she met the broker, Kronberg. Hastily he 
took the hat from his head and his features were dis- 
torted with a friendly grin. 

“How happy I am to meet you, pretty Fraulein,” 
said he, half aloud. “I was with your mother to ask 



Hastily he took the hat from his head and his features were dis- 
torted by a friendly grin.— Page 56. 


58 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


if you yet had need of Kronbcrg. A fine woman, 
your mother! She opened her heart to me and told 
me how hard you have to work. Work is nothing for 
you! Fraulein, I tell you is it nothing? I know you 
are not accustomed to work, and that you could lead 
a happier life, if you wished to!” 

“I am not complaining about my lot,” replied 
Johanna. 

“Because you are too clever and kind-hearted,” 
continued the broker, “because you do not wish to 
show people how difficult the change in your life is to 
bear. And you are right; why need others learn 
this? Only Kronberg knows it, but you need not 
mind me, I mean well and will never desert you.” 

“I do not require your help,” replied Johanna im- 
patiently, attempting to ascend the stairs. 

The broker barred the way. 

“Remain,” said he, “I was at the other end of town 
and came all this distance to see you. Why are you 
so harsh with me? Is it wrong of me to seek you 
out in order to offer you my help ? All who know me, 
say: ‘Kronberg is good, for he has a tender heart, 
he can not see anybody suffer.’” 

“I do not suffer,” returned Johanna. “Now step 
aside, I want to go to my mother.” 

“May I come again?” asked the broker, drawing 
back to allow her to pass. 

“You may spare yourself the trouble,” said Jo- 
hanna, hastily ascending the stairs. 

“ Lord, how inflexible you are !” called out Kronberg. 
“Well, I will come if I am in the neighborhood — I 
will come!” 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


59 


Johanna did not hear those words, for she had en- 
tered her mother’s room. With a half-inquiring, half- 
anxious glance the latter looked at her. 

“What was the broker doing here?” asked Johanna. 
“I just met him on the stairs.” 

“He came to again offer us his help.” 

“After I so decidedly told him we should not need 
it?” replied Johanna impatiently. 

“You are unjust to him,” said the woman. “He 
was so kind and really wants to help us.” 

“I fear his kindness more than anything,” said 
Johanna. “He was always servile towards Herr 
Platener, yet he plunged him into misfortune, and I 
am convinced he does not feel in the least remorse- 
ful.” 

“No, child, he is not so bad as that. He may 
look out for his own interests, but I do not believe he 
would harm anyone else.” 

Johanna perceived a roll of money lying upon the 
table. 

“What is that?” she asked. 

“Kronberg gave it to me.” 

Almost terrified Johanna looked at her mother. 

“For what? For what?” she asked hastily. 
“Mother, you took money from him?” 

“I did not want it,” replied the woman. “I re- 
fused it when he offered it to me that you might not 
have to work so hard, then he laid it on the table and 
left the room.” 

“I shall return it to him,” said Johanna, taking the 
money. “I want nothing from that man.” 


6o 


THE WORKINGMAN S WIFE 


“He gave me the money!” cried her mother, who 
could not understand her daughter’s manner. “Will 
you not let me lighten our condition with it? You 
do not know life, therefore do you look into the future 
with so much hope. I am not worried for myself, 
but for you. My life is almost ended, but you have 
yours before you and I do not wish to see it made 
miserable before you have begun to enjoy it.” 

Tears were in her eyes and her voice trembled. 

Johanna was moved; she felt that her mother was 
not wrong. 

“Mother, I will care for you, you shall not want!” 
she exclaimed, throwing her arm about her neck. “I 
am sure I shall succeed. But one favor accord me: 
do not let us accept the slightest benefit from Kron- 
berg, for he is designing and I do not wish to be in 
his debt. I shall give him his money as soon as he 
returns!” 

Silently the woman nodded her head. 

Johanna kissed her brow and then locked the 
money in a drawer. 


V. 


Johanna sat from early morning until late at night 
and embroidered the handkerchiefs given her by Frau 
Lacherlich. 

She had recently received a letter from Ina. The 
unhappy girl was still unable to reconcile herself to 
her fate. 

A painful expression flitted over Johanna’s face as 
she read the letter. Ina was still more unhappy than 
she was, for how much had she possessed and how 
much had she lost ! 

She wrote to her friend to comfort and calm her, 
but not the slightest complaint at her own fate was 
penned by her. 

When she had completed the letter, she sat there 
half-dreaming. During the past few days she had 
tried more than once to draw the picture of her future 
and every time it had looked gloomy. Her courage 
had not yet forsaken her, but her hope was gradually 
disappearing. 

In her excitement she rose. One thing was cer- 
tain, — she would sooner die than sacrifice her inno- 
cence. 

Her mother had gone out to make some trifling 
household purchases, she could therefore yield to her 
anxiety without needing to fear that her tears would 
betray her. She wept. 


61 


62 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


A soft rap was heard at the door. In affright she 
started and quickly passed her hand over her eyes in 
order to wipe away the tears. She scarcely dared 
to say, “Come in.” Slowly the door was opened; 
Kronberg slipped through it into the room. 

“Lord, you were weeping !” cried he. “Your pretty 
eyes are red! Has anyone harmed you? Tell me, 
and I will settle with him. It is a shame, a great 
shame, to call up tears into such lovely eyes. It is 
a shame, I say!” 

Johanna required all her strength to control her- 
self. 

“Herr Kronberg, my mother is not at home; I pray 
you, therefore, to leave me,” said she. 

“Why should I leave you?” continued the broker. 
“Are you afraid of me? Do you think I would harm 
you? Kronberg never harms any one, for his heart 
is good. I am happy to find you alone, for I have 
something to say to you.” 

“I pray you to leave me,” repeated Johanna. 

“Fraulein, I shall leave you, but not now,” replied 
the man impertinently. “What harm will it do you 
to listen to me? Sit down, for one is calmer in that 
position.” 

Johanna shook her head. 

“Well, then remain standing,” continued Kronberg. 
“Fraulein, it is an important matter which has brought 
me hither, a matter which I have carefully consid- 
ered; for I am not in the habit of acting without first 
weighing the case. Do not fear, it is a good matter! 
When you were still at Herr Platener’s, I saw you 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


63 


frequently, and every time I thought to myself: Lord, 
that girl is pretty and I would have been happy, could 
I have done you a favor. When Herr Platener took 
his life and you left his house, I said: the pretty, 
young lady must be needy, and I came hither to offer 
you my aid. You unfeelingly refused it. It pained 
me. I said to myself: the young lady does not know 
you or she would know that you mean well. I came 
again, you rejected me the second time. It was not 
my intention to urge my assistance upon you, although 
I know that you need it; but I said to myself: is it 
any wonder that the young girl is ill-humored? I 
could not forget you, your image was constantly be- 
fore me; I dreamed of you, — I, I, why should I hes- 
itate, Fraulein, I want to know if you will be mine. 

I love you, — give me your hand.” 

He attempted to take Johanna’s hand; in surprise, 
in horror she recoiled from his touch. 

“Herr Kronberg!” she exclaimed. She was unable 
to say more; disgust and indignation struggled within 
her. 

“Let me finish !” said the broker. “You only know 
Kronberg as you have always seen him, simply dressed 
and plain in his appearance. What should I do with 
fine clothes which cost money and do not help busi- 
ness. Fraulein, Kronberg could make as much dis- 
play as the wealthiest man in town, for he is wealthy; 
he could keep his own carriage, and he will keep it if 
you will become his wife; he will rent a large, fine 
house; he will buy you the finest clothes and he will 
fulfill every wish! He will ” 


6 4 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


“Enough!” at length interrupted Johanna, gather- 
ing together all her strength. “Leave me!” 

“Do not be cruel!” interrupted Kronberg. “I love 
you so dearly, that I would gladly give up all I pos- 
sess for you, do not reject me; let me, at least hope! 
Certainly, hope is poor security, but it is better than 
nothing. Consider what I have said to you; examine 
your heart and see if there is not a tiny corner in it 
for Kronberg — I am modest, very modest.” 

“It is unnecessary,” impatiently replied Johanna. 
“One thing I can tell you positively, that I would 
rather die than marry you, and that no power on 
earth could force me to do so.” 

Kronberg raised his head, his eyes were half closed; 
the smile which up to that time had played about his 
mouth, had disappeared, the mask had fallen, and 
his true character showed plainly forth. 

“Why? why?” he asked. “Will you not tell me, 
why ?” 

“Yes, I will tell you,” said Johanna. “Because I 
know how you treated Herr Platener and because I 
therefore despise you.” 

Over the broker’s face flitted a mocking smile. 

“What do you know?” he cried. “I was shrewder 
than the haughty man whose wealth seemed bound- 
less; I was shrewder, is that a fault? And on what 
do you wish to live? Do you think I do not know 
how little you receive for your work? You will not 
be able to earn more! Do not refuse me! I tell you 
a time will come when you will be glad if I knock at 
your door in order to bring you help.” 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 65 

“I will never accept help from you,” said Johanna. 
“1 would rather starve.” 

“And will you let your mother starve?” continued 
the broker. “Will you deprive the sick woman of 
the comfort she needs? Have you the right to reject 
the aid I bring your mother?” 

“Yes, I have the right, because I will care for her!” 
cried Johanna. “Leave me!” 

“I shall leave you !” repeated the broker. “You 
turn from me with disgust, as if I had offered you an 
insult, — and I could now put you to trouble.” 

“How?” asked Johanna, as she looked steadily at 
him. 

“If I were to ask for the money which I gave you 
a few days ago ?” asked Kronberg. “Did I say I would 
give it to her? I said nothing.” 

A crimson flush suffused the girl’s cheeks; hastily 
she approached her sewing-table. 

“You shall have the money back — here it is,” said 
Johanna, as she handed the broker the roll of money. 

In surprise the man retreated— he had not ex- 
pected that. 

“I will not take it!” he replied in confusion. 

“Then I will give it to the first beggar I meet,” 
continued Johanna. “I repeat that I would rather 
starve than accept anything from you, for I despise 
you !” 

She turned her back upon the broker and advanced 
to the window. 

Kronberg struggled with himself. Should he not 
once more try to persuade her in kindness? He knew 


66 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


it would be vain. His features were distorted into a 
mocking smile. 

“.You despise me!” he cried. “Well, you shall 
learn too to fear me. You desire me for an enemy — 
I will become onelBut do not complain if you suffer. 
Lord, a beggar despises Kronberg who could make 
her rich! Her contempt does not harm me!” 

Hastily he thrust the roll of money into his pocket 
and left the room. 

Johanna trembled when she was again alone; her 
forced composure disappeared. 

A beggar! 

She heard Kronberg’ s derisive laughter and it 
seemed to her as if a curse had been uttered over her. 

Was she not a beggar? 

There was one way, and like a dark shadow it en- 
tered her soul — there was one way which would put 
an end to all want, care and misery. 

In order to banish that thought, she took up her 
embroidery. 

Her mother, in the meantime, returned home and 
seemed to be very agitated. 

“I just met Kronberg,” said she. “He is very 
angry with you, for, he says, you insulted him.” 

Johanna was silent, with a feeling of pain she an- 
ticipated a conversation which she could not avoid. 

“Is it true that he sued for your hand?” continued 
Frau Mosen with excitement. 

“Yes.” 

“And you refused him?” 

“Yes.” 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


67 


“He told me so, but I could and would not believe 
it, he is rich and I consider it sinful for you to tram- 
ple your happiness thus under foot. Do not think 
that you will have such an offer a second time ! One 
as rich as Kronberg can knock at any door and it will 
be opened to him, for he can give his wife all that 
she wishes.” 

“Ido not long for wealth,” replied Johanna quietly. 
“Was not Platener much wealthier and did he not 
lose all? He has even left his daughter poorer and 
more wretched than I am.” 

“He was imprudent, that was his ruin,” said her 
mother. 

“As long as he was fortunate, he was looked upon 
as shrewd and prudent. His misfortune has proved 
to me that money is mere empty show.” 

“You do not yet know the value of money; you do 
not know that it is a power which rules all, and if 
you do not care for its possession, I should still think 
that the thought of your sick mother, of making her 
life easier, would have prevented you from refusing 
Kronberg.” 

“Mother, do you wish to sell me?” she asked at 
length slowly, in an almost inaudible voice. 

Her mother did not reply; she felt the reproach 
concealed in the question. 

She left the room in order to escape her child’s 
glance. 

A few days later Johanna gathered together the 
embroidered handkerchiefs in order to take them to 
Frau Lacherlich. 


68 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


With expectantly beating heart she entered the 
wealthy lady’s house. The servant took the hand- 
kerchiefs from her and left her in the ante-room. 

Finally she returned with the message that madame 
could not be seen and that Johanna must come again. 

The next day Johanna called only to be put off 
once more. 

“You must come to-night,” said the maid. 

Towards dusk, Johanna rang for the third time at 
Frau Lacherlich’s. She was ushered into the ante- 
room and a few moments later madame entered 
hastily with impatience upon her features. She wore 
her hat and veil and seemed ready to go out. 

“Lord, one is not undisturbed a moment !” said she 
in reply to Johanna’s bow. “What do you want?” 

The blood rushed to Johanna’s cheeks. Timidly 
she asked if the work had given satisfaction, venturing 
to add that she had come to receive her pay for the 
same. 

“And so you disturb me for the third time?” con- 
tinued the woman impatiently. “I told you to keep 
the handkerchiefs clean. You did not do so; any 
other young girl in the union would have done bet- 
ter.” 

She stepped in front of the mirror in order to ar- 
range the ribbons on her hat. 

Tears entered Johanna’s eyes. 

“I took the greatest pains with them.” 

Frau Lacherlich shrugged her shoulders. 

“Have you other work for me?” asked Johanna. 

“No,” was the curt reply. 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


69 


Johanna remained silent. 

“Well, what do you want?” asked Frau Lacher- 
lich, turning around. 

“I have to live on what my work brings,” said the 
unhappy girl in a trembling voice. 

“So you came three times,” cried Frau Lacherlich. 
“Perhaps you thought you would not get your 
money? I am not in the habit of being dunned!” 

She opened her purse, threw a dollar and a half on 
the table, and without another word, left the room. 

Trembling with agitation, Johanna looked after her. 
Had she committed a wrong, that she should merit 
such treatment? Was that her pay for the difficult 
work? From the woman who was at the head of a 
Woman’s League she had hoped to receive help and 
how disappointed she was! She could have cried 
aloud with pain and despair. 

She stretched out her hand to take the money; it 
fell powerless at her side. The bitterest need might 
come to her — she could not take the money which 
had been flung at her as if she were a beggar. 

Scarcely conscious of what she was doing, she 
rushed from the room and from the hou3e. 

In her excited condition she could not return home, 
she must not let her mother see her grief; she there- 
fore hastened out of town to seek comfort in the 
woods. 

Ladies and gentlemen whom she had frequently 
met at Platener’s, passed by her; she lowered her 
head in order to avoid recognition; suddenly she 
heard a man step up to her and pronounce her name. 


70 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


In affright she started; as she raised her eyes, a deep 
flush overspread her face, for she recognized Lieu- 
tenant von Brankow. 

“I have for some time longed to see you,” said he 
in a low voice. “It was a sorrowful day on which we 
last met. I have not forgotten it, but I hope that 
you now have forgiven the step I took. Who can 
struggle against the circumstances which arise? Am 
I to blame because my heart beat more tenderly for 
you than for Ina whom I fancied I loved and whom 
in reality I did not?” continued Brankow. 

“I pray you, leave me!” besought Johanna. 

“No, I will not leave you after having been so fort- 
unate as to find you again!” cried the lieutenant. 
“Only after the bond which united me to Ina was 
broken, was I conscious of how infinitely I loved 
you. For days I walked through the streets hoping 
to meet you. I may have done Ina an injustice, but 
my heart need not ask for pardon, it is yours with a 
tenderness which nothing can rob you of.” 

Johanna scarcely heard the words which he spoke; 
she only saw that passers-by were looking at them 
curiously. 

“Pray, pray, leave me!” said she with difficulty. 

“Johanna, do not misjudge me,” continued Bran- 
kow. “I beseech you do not think that I will thrust 
myself upon you ! One thing only I ask of you, do 
not deprive me of all hope; give me a chance to sue 
faithfully for your love; try my heart, do not drive 
me to despair, for it is no wrong to love you!” 

Johann’s position became more painful; she would 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


7* 


have run away, had she not feared to awaken more 
attention. 

Impelled solely by the thought of escaping the peo- 
ple, she hastily turned into a narrower and quieter 
side street. 

Brankow remained by her side, his eyes beamed; 
by her turning into the side street, he was misled. 

“Go!” cried the girl, anxiously. 

“Not before you have told me that I may hope and 
may see you soon again! Tell me, when — when?” 

“Never!” exclaimed Johanna, almost fainting. 

“Then I will not go!” cried the lieutenant. “I will 
not rob myself of the good-fortune which has fallen 
to my lot accidentally to-day; I do not wish to lose 
you just as I have found you. I will not give you up, 
because I love you dearly! Johanna, pity me, do 
not deprive me of all hope, or you will drive me to 
despair!” 

He seized the girl’s hand. 

Johanna started; she tried to withdraw it, but he 
held it forcibly fast. The blood had left her cheeks 
and in a scarcely audible voice she cried: “Free me! 
Help!” 

“Only give me hope — only hope!” replied Bran- 
kow, still retaining her hand. 

“I will help you, Fraulein!” suddenly said a strong 
voice, and a slender, young man in simple but neat 
attire approached her. 

Scarcely had the lieutenant seen him than he let 
the girl’s hand fall, his eyes glittered ominously and 
yet he seemed startled. 


72 


THE W0RK1NGM\N’S WIFE 


“I will free you from this man,” continued the 
young man. “He knows that I have an account to 
settle with him and he will not force me to do it 
here.” 

The lieutenant uttered a few threatening words, 
but left immediately. 

As if seeking protection, Johanna had seized the 
young man’s arm; as she stood opposite him, she let 
her hands fall, an embarrassed flush tinged her cheeks 
and her eyes sank. She knew the young man for he 
lived in the same house as her mother; more than 
once she had met him on the stairs and he had been 
polite enough to step aside every time. His name 
she knew was Karl Wenzel. 

He too had recognized her immediately and as he 
stood directly in front of her, his chest seemed to ex- 
pand, his eyes rested upon the girl’s beautiful feat- 
ures. 

“I thank you for your help,” said Johanna, and her 
voice trembled; she felt so weak that she was forced 
to lean against a tree. 

As they walked on slowly side by side, Wenzel 
asked: 

“Do you know Lieutenant von Brankow?” 

“Yes,” said Johanna in reply. “He was engaged 
to a friend of mine, but deserted her when she lost 
her fortune.” 

“ That is like him!” said the young man. 

“Do you know Brankow, too?” asked Johanna at 
length. 

“I know him,” replied Wenzel with agitation. “I 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


73 


would, however, give a great deal had I never heard 
his name. His character is not only frivolous, it is 
bad; what cares he if he destroys the happiness of a 
human life?” 

“Do you not perhaps judge him too severely ?” said 
Johanna. “I only think his character weak.” 

“He is bad,” repeated Wenzel bitterly. “My hard 
words seem to surprise you,” he continued more 
calmly, “and yet I have a right to utter them. My 
blood is heated when I simply see him; I have yet 
satisfaction to demand of him and I hope the time 
will come in which he will have to give it to me.” 

As if lost in thought he stared before him. 

“What has he done to you?” asked Johanna. 

“I will tell you,” said he. “I rarely speak of it for 
when I do so my heart contracts painfully and I feel 
as if I must hasten away in order to seek and punish 
the fellow. My father was a workingman, a simple, 
but scrupulously honest man, who never knowingly 
in his life committed a wrong action. He worked in 
a factory, received good wages and was proud of the 
fact that he had always kept his family from want. 
My mother died when I had just left school. I can 
still see my father, who was usually very grave and 
severe, standing by my mother’s deathbed and weep- 
ing passionately; all comforting words were of no 
avail, for he had loved his wife dearly! Beside him, 

I stood with my sister, Clara, several years younger 
than I; we were my father’s only children. My sis- 
ter was an innocent, pretty girl, and because she 
resembled my mother, he lavished his entire wealth 


74 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


of love upon her. I too loved her dearly. She was 
then fifteen years old and kept house for us; she did 
it cheerfully and well; she tried to soften my father’s 
grief and she succeeded. Our lives were calm and 
peaceful. At that time I worked in the same factory 
as my father, and in the evening when work was 
done, we hurried home as quickly as possible, to 
meet Clara who always welcomed us joyfully. 

“So two years sped by and it was a happy time. 
One evening as we were returning from the factory, 
my father asked me: 

“‘Do you know what ails Clara? She is quieter, 
her cheeks are paler; she is often absent-minded and 
does not take as much interest in household matters 
as she did.’ I could not reply for I had not noticed 
it; but when I watched my sister more closely, I 
saw that my father was right. The secluded life 
seemed no longer to please her, she no longer dressed 
so simply and she seemed to have lost all interest in 
the home. 

“It was some time before my father reproached her; 
as it became necessary to do so, she showed impa- 
tience and anger, which was quite contrary to her 
custom. She frankly replied that she too wished to 
enjoy her youth and that she did not care to keep 
house for us. My father could not comprehend the 
change which had taken place within her, he grieved 
over it and in the evening was not so happy as he 
had been. 

“Shortly thereafter we learned that an officer — it 
was Lieutenant von Brankow who lived in our neigh- 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


75 


borhood — frequently visited my sister when we were 
not at home. My father was beside himself, for his 
heart was filled with love for the girl. ‘Come with 
me,’ said he to me one evening. ‘I can no longer 
stand it. I must know the truth. I am going to ask 
her myself and you must come too.’ 

“When we came home, we surprised my sister ad- 
miring the material for a new gown; she tried to con- 
ceal it, but my father prevented her. ‘Where did you 
get that material?’ he asked severely. 

“She blushed in confusion. Only when my father 
repeated the question, did she reply that she had 
bought it with money she had saved. 

“‘You are telling an untruth!’ cried my father. 
‘Lieutenant von Brankow gave it to you.’ 

“Clara turned pale ; she attempted a denial, but 
her confusion could not be concealed. 

“‘I know that the lieutenant visits you,’ continued 
my father. ‘Send him the material back at once and 
write him never to come again ! Write him that if I 
meet him here, I will treat him as someone who has 
violated my sanctuary!’ 

“Clara made no reply. 

“On the following day her manner was unchanged, 
and one evening when we reached home she was not 
there. Hour after hour we awaited her return; 
finally when it grew late we determined to go in search 
of her. The entire night we wandered through the 
streets; we inquired of all her friends, but in vain. 

“Morning broke, and we had not found her, nor 
did she return. My father only remained home a 


76 


1 HE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


short time, then he started out again to seek our lost 
one; I accompanied him. He was convinced that 
she had taken her life. It would have been well had 
she done so. 

“Our search again proved fruitless. In a few days 
my father seemed to have aged years. 

“He went to see Lieutenant von Brankow, who 
abruptly told him he knew nothing of Clara. On 
the third day we learned from a woman that my sis- 
ter had rented apartments in a street quite far away. 

“My father started as if struck by lightning. To- 
gether we went out in silence. 

“We reached the street and house named. Slowly 
we ascended the steps my father paused to gather 
together his strength. We passed on, suddenly he 
stopped again and listened. He thought he heard 
Clara’s voice in one of the rooms. I too had heard 
it. I saw him tremble violently and besought him to 
be more composed. He did not seem to hear my 
words. Hastily he opened the door. He stopped 
upon the threshold and the blood left his cheeks; 
Clara sat at a table with several officers and held a 
wine-glass in her hand. The laughter died out at 
once Clara sprang up with the cry: ‘My father!’ 
and fled to the window. Then my father approached 
the wayward girl and seized her hand in order to take 
her with him. Lieutenant von Brankow advanced 
to prevent him; he said that my father had no right 
there, but the latter looked at him so fiercely that he 
timidly drew back. ‘Do not attempt to hinder me 
from taking away my unhappy child or you will find 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


77 


of what a father who is driven to despair is capable!’ 
he cried, and without deigning to glance at the others 
present he led my sister from the room and from the 
house. When we reached home, my father sank into 
a chair and covered his face with both his hands. 
Clara wept and confessed that she loved Lieutenant 
von Brankow; he had said that he would marry her 
and never desert her. In vain my father represented 
to her that the lieutenant’s intentions were not honest 
and honorable; she did not believe him. However, 
she promised to forget him, but my father’s anxiety 
proved to me that he did not trust her. In a few 
days she again disappeared and left a letter in which 
she wrote that she could not leave the lieutenant and 
that we should not seek her for we should not find 
her. My father made no effort to find her, he knew 
she was lost; nor did he even see her again, for 
barely a year later he died after a lingering illness; 
grief for her had broken his heart — he could not bear 
the disgrace.” 

Johanna was deeply moved. 

“Did you ever see your unhappy sister again?” she 
asked. 

“I saw her again. Unknown to my father, I visited 
her, in order to persuade her to return; I found her, 
but she refused to go with me — she was already an 
outcast.” 

“Had Lieutenant von Brankow deserted her?” 
asked Johanna. 

“Only too soon. I knew it would come. But I 
hope that some day he will be called to account 
for it” 


78 


THE WORKINGMAN S WIFE 


Johanna was silent. She recalled the fact that she 
too had loved that man. Involuntarily the blood 
rushed to her cheeks. 

“Is your sister still living?” she asked. 

“To me she is dead! She sank lower and lower, 
I rarely see her; if I chance to meet her on the street 
I evade her for I can not forget how much my father 
suffered through her.” 

They walked calmly on as they talked; when they 
reached the house in which they lived, he offered 
Johanna his hand and frankly she laid hers in it. 

“Thank you,” said she. “You did me a great serv- 
ice to-day.” 

Then she hastened up the stairs before the young 
man could reply. 

Wenzel was just five-and-twenty ; notwithstand- 
ing, he was foreman in a furniture factory. The posi- 
tion he owed to his thoroughness, his industry and 
his conscientiousness. His employer, once a master- 
carpenter, named Frobel, who through his factory 
had earned a considerable fortune, had perfect con- 
fidence in him. 

Towards the men under him he was strict, but just; 
most of them loved him and only a few envied him 
his position. Wenzel as yet knew little of life; as 
yet he did not know people as they were; he was 
guided more by his feelings than his judgment. 

When he reached his room, he paced slowly up and 
down. He saw his sister again, hastening to meet 
his father and him with a joyous air. How her eyes 
had laughed when she had prepared some surprise 


The workingman's wife 79 

for them, and how happy their evenings had 
been. 

Then he saw Johanna’s dark and serious eyes up- 
turned to his. 

As he meditated, a rap was heard at his door, and 
before he could cry “Come in,” a man of some thirty 
years entered, his hat upon his head, his left hand in 
his trousers pocket. 

He was tall and slender; upon his sallow face 
were traces of a life of dissipation and of uncontrolled 
passions. He was the bookkeeper in Frobel’s fac- 
tory and his name was Hassel. His past life had been 
checkered. He had entered the Polytechnic school 
in order to learn building and by his exceptional capa- 
bilities, he could have obtained a brilliant future, 
but the dislike of work and his frivolity had only too 
soon gained the upper hand. Then he became a 
merchant; fortune favored him, he built up a very 
lucrative business, but as he followed his own pleas- 
ures, in two years he became a bankrupt. 

Hard times had come for him. 

Finally he obtained the position of bookkeeper in 
Frobel’s factory. Frobel could not have found abet- 
ter qualified man and Hassel seemed indeed to have 
changed, for in two years he had contracted no debts; 
his employer knew his past life and therefore kept a 
sharp eye on him. 

An impatient expression flitted across Wenzel’s 
face as he saw the bookkeeper enter. The latter 
had almost forced his friendship upon him and it was 
not always unpleasant, for a more genial companion 


8o 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


it would have been difficult to find; at that moment, 
however, the visitor was not welcome. 

He informed Wenzel in his light manner that he 
had come to take him to a concert. 

Wenzel did not care to go, but Hassel seized his 
hat, set it upon his head and drew the young man 
from the room. 

Wenzel had not the strength to resist his will; but 
he went very unwillingly. A few hours before he 
would have gladly followed him for up to that time 
he had been pleased to meet Hassel’s sister. It now 
seemed to him as if Johanna’s dark eyes were fixed 
upon him half-sympathetically, half-sadly. 

Hassel thrust his arm through that of the young 
man and chatted gayly as they walked along. 

“You see, life has not the slightest value if one does 
not enjoy it!” said he. “All those who take life seri- 
ously are fools. They torture themselves, work and 
think constantly of the fuutre. If they have families, 
they have only one thought: to provide for them; 
they grow gray from labor and care and when at 
length they die — what have they had of life? What 
do they take with them?” 

“The consciousness of having done their duty,” re- 
plied Wenzel gravely. 

His friend scoffed lightly at what he called his 
“nonsense,” saying: 

“My maxim is this: a merry life and a merry 
death!” 

Meanwhile they reached the house in which the 
concert was to take place. When they entered the 


1HE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


8l 


hall heavy with cigar smoke and heated air, Wenzel 
involuntarily paused on the threshold filled with a 
sensation of disgust. 

Hassel too paused, but only to glance searchingly 
around the room. * 

“Come, there they are!’* said he then, preceding 
his friend. 

Wenzel followed him. 

At the table which the bookkeeper advanced to- 
wards, sat two gentlemen and a young girl, his sister. 

“Here he is l” cried he laughing. “He was in his 
room and I had great difficulty in bringing him here!” 

A slight blush flitted over Wenzel’s face. 

Betty drew a chair to her side and invited him to 
be seated. She seemed about twenty years of age. 
Her face was pretty and animated, and about her 
finely cut mouth hovered a pleasant smile. From 
beneath her large hat and her gray veil, which she 
had thrown back, peeped a mass of fair hair. Her 
costume was rich but not striking. In her dainty, 
white hands she held a fan which she now opened, 
now shut. 

“So you did not wish to come?” said she in a soft 
voice, glancing shyly at him. 

“I desired to be alone, moreover I was tired from 
walking,” replied Wenzel. 

“Then you will be vexed with my brother for bring- 
ing you here,” continued Betty. “But as you are 
now in our midst, you must not decline to join in our 
merriment.” 

Hassel had ordered punch and he held his glass 
towards Wenzel. 


82 


THE WORKINGMAN^ WIFE 


“To-day you are my guest!” he cried. “We will 
celebrate this evening, I have an especial reason for 
being merry to-day ! It is Betty’s birthday. She is 
twenty.” 

“I forbade your telling it!” said Betty, feigning a 
pout. “What can it interest Herr Wenzel?” 

Wenzel could do nothing but assure her to the 
contrary and drink to her health. 

“You did not think I was so old?” asked Betty. 

“Is twenty so old that you should seek to hide it? 
replied Wenzel. “Of what value are years? One 
can be young if one is fifty.” 

“Not if one is a woman!” said Betty. “What re- 
mains to us if youth is taken from us? You as a man 
will not understand me and yet I speak the truth. 
Let us drink to youth, you too are still young, and 
youth alone can enjoy life.” 

There was something fascinating in the girl’s 
glance. How coquettishly and gracefully she raised 
the glass, how clear her laughter sounded! How 
merrily she shook her fair curls. 

Hassel sent for more punch. Wenzel, before whose 
eyes the crowd in the hall already swam, refused to 
drink more. 

Hassel laughed at him. 

Betty laid her small white hand upon his arm and 
said: 

“Would you mar the pleasure of my birthday ?” 

In those blue eyes there was a charm which he 
could not withstand. He seized her hand and held 
it fast. 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 83 

“No, I will not mar it!” cried he, half emptying his 
glass to her health. 

The presence of the young girl’s hand ran through 
him like an electric spark; the rest of his composure 
was gone. 

“We will celebrate your birthday!” cried he laugh- 
ing, and he bade a waiter bring more champagne. 

“Wenzel, to whom shall the first glass be drunk?” 
cried Hassel. 

“It could only be drunk to one!” cried he, turning 
toward Betty. 

He had departed from his usual, serious path, he 
would be gay and enjoy life while he had by his side 
a young and pretty maiden. 

He ordered more champagne, for the bottles had 
soombeen emptied. 

He held Betty’s hand in his, and she leaned her 
head languishingly upon his shoulder. Once more 
he raised his glass. 

“To her we love!” cried he; he could no longer see 
clearly; all seemed to him to have blue eyes, fair 
hair and small, solt hands. 

The glasses were clinked; he sank into a chair still 
retaining Betty’s hand. He was oblivious to all else. 
He did not sleep, he seemed to be in a blissful dream. 

When he finally aroused from his stupor, the music 
had ceased; the hall was almost empty, he saw be- 
fore him the pale bookkeeper holding a bottle in his 
hand. He gathered together all his strength, rose 
and returned home. 

When he awoke the next morning, it was already 
late; his head was heavy and dull 


8 4 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


With an effort he stood up, but he felt that he was 
unfit for business. He had a faint remembrance of 
the events of the preceding evening. 

Of his return home he recollected only one thing, 
that Hassel had led him and that Betty had walked 
beside him. 

Occupied with thoughts of what had happened, he 
sat in his room until the morning had sped by. 

At noon Hassel entered without knocking, his hat 
upon his head. 

“Ha ha! I knew at once what ailed you when you 
did not appear this morning at the factory,” cried he. 
“You can bear very little. Ha ha! One learns a 
great deal in a life-time and you will learn to take 
more.” 

“I do not care to learn,” replied Wenzel curtly ; he 
did not attempt to conceal his vexation. “Nor do I 
think I shall ever be in such a position again, for my 
experience has been a good teacher.” 

“Ha, ha, dear friend, you take everything too 
seriously;” exclaimed the bookkeeper with a laugh 

“As I think now, I shall think later,” replied he 
gravely. 

“Nonsense!” interrupted Hassel. “You are in an 
ill humor because your head is still heavy; I shall 
therefore come this evening to talk matters over with 
you.” 

He lighted a cigar and turned to leave the room. 

“What have you to talk over with me?” asked 
Wenzel, detaining him. 

“Have you then forgotten? Excellent! Excel- 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 85 

lent!” cried Hassel, laughing. “See here, I certainly 
dare not tell my sister that.” 

Wenzel looked at him with increasing astonish- 
ment. 

“What have I forgotten?” he asked. 

“That you engaged yourself yesterday.” 

“I ? ” 

“Yes, you!” 

The blood receded from Wenzel’s already pallid 
cheeks. 

“To whom?” 

“It is growing richer and richer !” laughed the book - 
keeper. “You really seem to have forgotten that 
you confessed your love to my sister and engaged 
yourself to her. That is fine!” 

Involuntarily Wenzel retreated; he stared fixedly 
at the bookkeeper; he was taxing his brain to recall 
the fact. It could not be. 

“Cease jesting, I am not in a mood for it this 
morning.” 

The bookkeeper feigned surprise. 

“I am not joking!” he returned. 

“It is not true — it can not be!” exclaimed Wenzel. 

Hassel interrupted Wenzel impatiently. “Do you 
think I have told a falsehood or that my sister would 
force herself upon you? Betty is a good girl, she has 
a sensitive nature,” continued Hassel. “I should like 
to see her happy above all others. You will be happy 
too, Wenzel, for you will find a heart that loves you 
tenderly, that would make any sacrifice for you and 
has only one wish: to make you happy.” 


86 


THE WORKINGMAN S WIFE 


“It can not be!” cried Wenzel. “I know nothing 
of all this. I must have uttered the words uncon- 
sciously, they can not bind me for — for I do not love 
your sister!” 

Hassel drew his tall form to its fullest height: his 
half-closed eyes looked forth threateningly. 

“Herr Wenzel,” said he slowly, emphatically. 
“You engaged yourself to my sister in the presence 
of several witnesses, you are bound and know what 
your duty is as a man of honor!” 

He hastily left the room. 

Wenzel sank into a chair and pressed his hand to 
his glowing brow. 

For a long time he sat there motionlessly, at. length 
he sprang up, for fresh doubts had arisen in him. 
Could he trust the bookkeeper’s words? 

He did not know what to believe and what to 
doubt; he must know the truth, where should he 
seek it? 

Finally he concluded to ask Betty herself. And if 
he had really confessed his love for her in his intoxi- 
cation, he would frankly tell her that he did not love 
her. Could she hold him to words spoken thus? 

Evening came and he hastily dressed himself in 
order to go to her before her brothers should return 
home. He left the room and descended the stair- 
case. 

A woman came towards him, it was Johanna. 
With half-averted face she tried to pass him; he, how- 
ever saw that her eyes were red from weeping and 
stopped her. 


THE WORKINGMAN^ WIFE 


87 


“You have been crying, what ails you?” he asked. 

Johanna did not reply, but attempted to pass him. 

“Have you so little confidence in me?” continued 
Wenzel, and his words sounded reproachful. 

With tearful eyes Johanna' looked up at him. 

“My mother was taken suddenly ill,” replied she, 
“I hastened away to fetch a doctor and found none. 
They all pretend to be busy because — because we 
are poor.” 

Against her will the last words escaped her lips. 

“You found no doctor?” repeated Wenzel. 

Johanna shook her head in the negative. 

“My mother is alone and helpless, I must go to 
her!” cried Johanna. “I would have borne all pa- 
tiently but this— is beyond my strength!” 

With an effort she hastened up stairs. 

“I will fetch a doctor!” called out Wenzel as he 
walked away. 

He no longer thought of Betty; he saw only Jo- 
hanna’s dark and tearful eyes. 

Barely fifteen minutes later he ascended the stairs 
with a doctor, happy to bring help. 

With the physician he entered Johanna’s bare but 
neat room. At her mother’s bedside kneeled the 
girl, her cheek pressed against the sick woman’s 
hand. 

Gratefully Johanna glanced at Wenzel. 

The doctor examined the invalid; his face was 
grave and calm and betrayed nothing; but a slight 
shrug of the shoulder told her how little hope he en- 
tertained. 


88 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


He wrote a prescription and ordered that the pa- 
tient receive the greatest attention and the best nour- 
ishment, which he said would benefit her more than 
all the medicine he could give her. 

At those words the blood left the unhappy daugh- 
ter’s cheeks, and she stared fixedly at the doctor. 

With tottering steps she escorted him to the door 
and when he was gone, she buried her face in her 
hands in despair. She had not observed that Wenzel 
lingered behind. 

When he approached and spoke soothingly to her, 
she started and yet she breathed a sigh of relief as 
she looked into his sympathetic face. 

“I will obtain the medicine for your mother,” 
said he. 

Silently Johanna nodded her head, for she had no 
one to whom to turn. 

“Now grant me one more favor,” added Wenzel. 
“Your mother must have good nourishment; I can 
read in your eyes that you are unable to provide it 
for her; accept this, if you please.” 

He handed her a sealed paper in which were some 
of his savings. 

“No — no, I can not accept it!” cried Johanna. 

“Yes, you can,” said Wenzel. “I have no other 
object than to help you, and what I give you I can 
spare.” 

Johanna remained silent. 

“I would look upon your acceptance of it as a 
proof of your confidence,” continued Wenzel, “and I 
assure you I will never abuse it. Think of your sick 
mother!” 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 89 

Almost hurriedly Johanna took the money, her 
hand trembled. 

“I do not know how to thank you,” she began. 

“Do not thank me,” interrupted Wenzel. “I have 
my thanks in the faith you have put in me.” 

He left the room to obtain the necessary medicine 
for Frau Mosen. 


VI. 


Wenzel had taken the medicine to the invalid and 
was descending the stairs, when he saw Hassel as- 
cending Hoping that the bookkeeper had not per- 
ceived him, he tried to enter his room; but Hassel 
espied him before he succeeded in doing so. 

“Where have you been?” he asked in his pleasant- 
est manner. “You always told me that you knew no 
one in the house.” 

A slight flush of embarrassment appeared upon the 
young man’s face; he did not wish to tell the truth 
and he could find no excuse. 

“Who lives upstairs?” continued Hassel. 

“I do not know,” replied Wenzel. “I went out for 
a walk because my head ached, and when I returned 
I thoughtlessly ascended another flight of stairs.” 

The mocking smile which flitted across the book- 
keeper’s face plainly betrayed that he did not credit 
those words. 

“Had that happened yesterday, I would have 
thought it more probable,” he replied, seating him- 
self and lighting a cigar. 

“Sit down, Wenzel,” he added. “It makes me 
uncomfortable to have anyone stand when I am 
seated. I was somewhat overhasty this forenoon, it 
would have been better had I not said what I did to 
90 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


91 


you. I have come to ask you to say nothing about 
it to Betty; you know all girls are sensitive, and I 
should not like to have a quarrel with my sister.” 

Wenzel had almost forgotten his words, so pre- 
occupied had he been with other matters. 

“I do not know to what you allude,” he said. 

“I told you you were bound and would, as a man 
of honor, know what to do. As I said, I am sorry 
for those words, for it goes without saying: it did 
not for a moment occur to me to doubt your honor. 
Nor did Betty either. She is happy and has already 
told all her friends. I do not know who told it at 
the factory, but this afternoon several of the men con- 
gratulated me. You are well liked and all are glad 
that you think of establishing a home of your own. 
Even Herr Frobel knows about it, did you tell him?” 

The blood left Wenzel’s cheeks; he divined the 
bookkeeper’^ object — he himself had circulated the 
report, in order to force him to the step. 

“What should I have told him?” he cried, spring- 
ing up in agitation. 

“Of your engagement to my sister,” returned Hassel 
calmly. “I think it quite right that you should have 
told Herr Frobel at once, before he found it out from 
others.” 

“I did not engage myself to your sister !” exclaimed 
Wenzel. “This morning you could confuse me; but 
now I know what I said to her, and that I did not 
tell her I loved her.” 

The bookkeeper rose slowly, gravely. 

“Fortunately I heard it myself and have witnesses 
besides,” said he. 


92 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


Wenzel’s self-possession vanished. 

“If you had a hundred witnesses, I would dispute 
it!” cried he. “And if I had forgotten myself when 
under the influence of wine, I should never consider 
myself bound. I do not love your sister, therefore I 
shall never become her betrothed ” 

Hassel’s brows contracted; his eyes were almost 
closed, yet they glittered uncannily. 

“Will you repeat those words?” he asked. 

“I spoke plainly enough and am convinced that 
you understood me.” 

“Yes, I did!” cried Hassel, drawing himself up. 
“I did not want to believe that you would act so dis- 
honorably towards my sister.” 

Involuntarily Wenzel started at that insult, re- 
treated a pace. 

“Take back those words!” he cried violently. 

“Will you recognize my sister as your fiancee?” 

“Never!” 

“Then I repeat that you have acted dishonorably 
toward her!” 

“I shall demand satisfaction for those words!” 

“Haha! How will you do so?” cried Hassel mock- 
ingly. “Do you think I fear you? I will make pub- 
lic your treatment of her; all the world shall learn 
of it.” 

“Do not do so,” replied Wenzel, “or I shall be 
obliged to explain how your sister thrust herself upon 
me.” 

“Not another word! You will perhaps say the 
same of me! You shall learn to know me as your 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


93 


enemy, for you are henceforth unworthy of my friend- 
ship! You now know what to expect.” 

Hassel left the room. When he reached the court, 
he paused and looked at the house. Above Wen- 
zel’s room was a window in which was a faint light. 

Who lived there? 

On his way out at the lodge he pleasantly asked 
the porter for a light, at the same time giving him a 
cigar and by roundabout questions obtaining from 
him the information he desired with regard to the 
occupant of the room above Wenzel’s. 

The following morning when Wenzel returned to 
work, several of the men approached him in order to 
congratulate him. He had anticipated that and 
therefore maintained his composure. 

“I can not accept your congratulations for I am 
not engaged. Who told you this?” 

“Herr Hassel himself confirmed the report,” re- 
marked a workman. 

“Then he told you an untruth,” replied Wenzel 
with calm decision. “I have never been engaged to 
his sister and never shall be.” 

That day it was impossible for Wenzel to go to 
Johanna and offer his aid, for a friend whom he had 
not seen for years, called upon him and invited him 
to spend the evening with him and he did not return 
home until late at night. Softly he ascended the 
stairs in order not to disturb her. 

Only on the following day when work was ended, 
did he hasten to Johanna in order to inquire for her 
mother. Johanna’s cheeks were strikingly pale, 
her eyes were swollen from weeping. 


94 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


“My mother is very bad,” she said, “her strength 
is leaving her so fast that she is unable to speak.” 

“Has the doctor been here again?” 

“To-day.” 

“What did he say?” 

Johanna hid her face in her hands and sobbed vio- 
lently; he seemed to have given her little hope. 

“Calm yourself,” Wenzel sought to soothe her. 
“Were the worst to happen, you should not be left 
alone! You are exhausted, I will watch beside your 
mother.” 

Johanna shook her head. 

“Shall I not remain here?” asked Wenzel sympa- 
thetically. 

“No, I pray you, go”? 

“Have you no relatives?” 

“None.” 

“And yet you refuse my aid. Have you not more 
confidence in me?” 

Johanna was silent ; when he repeated his question, 
she replied hastily: “Yes, yes, but you must not 
remain here.” 

“Wherefore not?” 

“I pray you, leave me,” returned Johanna, avert- 
ing her head. 

Wenzel went. Thoughtfully and sadly he sat in 
his room thinking of Johanna. He loved her, that 
he knew. 

Sitting by the open window and inhaling the cool, 
refreshing night air, he fell into a reverie. 

He was alone in the world; he had one sister, it 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


95 


was true, but she was dead to him — to him she was 
lost. 

Soon the unhappy girl upstairs would be alone. 

He listened repeatedly — all above was still. Per- 
haps Johanna had fallen asleep. Then he heard a 
loud, piercing shriek and immediately afterwards a 
heavy fall. 

In terror he rose, he held his breath to listen, all 
was still. Without hesitation he hurried from the 
room and up the stairs; for a second he listened with 
anxiously beating heart at Johanna’s door, then he 
entered. 

The door of the room in which the sick woman lay 
was ajar, a faint glimmer of light showed him the 
way. It fell upon the pale, fixed face of the dead; 
beside the bed lay Johanna in a swoon. 

He now understood the cry. 

For a few moments he stood there motionless, he 
approached the unconscious girl, raised her, bore her 
to her room and laid her upon the hard sofa. She 
did not move; her eyes were closed, her lips pale, 
as if there were not a drop of blood in them. She 
still gave no sign of life. Was she too dead? 

In nameless fear, Wenzel hurried back to the other 
room, in order to fetch light and water and bending 
over the sad but lovely face of the girl, he sprinkled 
her temples with water. 

In a short time Johanna opened her eyes which fell 
upon a pair of eyes filled with sympathy and anxiety. 
At first she did not seem to remember what had hap- 
pened; a faint smile passed over her features, as if 
she had seen a vision. 


9 6 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


That condition only lasted a few seconds, then the 
terrible reality seized hold upon hen 

“She is dead, she is dead!” cried she. She tried to 
rise, but sank back upon the sofa. 

Wenzel did not try to stop her tears. 

Silently he stood beside the weeping girl. 

“Now I am entirely alone!” cried Johanna at length. 
“Why did not my eyes close at the same time as 
hers?” 

“You shall not be left alone,” said Wenzel con- 
solingly. 

She scarcely heard his words. Morning was be- 
ginning to dawn when she gathered herself together 
and asked Wenzel to leave her. 

“I thank you for your sympathy,” said she. “You 
have given up your entire night to me, now think of 
yourself!” 

“Are a few wakeful hours a sacrifice?” replied 
Wenzel. “You have great cares, leave the fulfilment 
of them to me, I will attend to the interment.” 

“I can not — it is too much!” cried Johanna. 

At length she yielded to his prayer and at his re- 
quest sought rest. 

The poor woman was quickly put under the sod; 
the grave-digger scarcely left Wenzel sufficient time 
to cast a handful of earth upon the coffin. 

With a heart filled with real grief he returned alone 
from the cemetery. 

Johanna sat at her window as he entered the room; 
she rose slowly and came to meet him, to thank him 
for his kindness; she no longer wept, but what a 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


97 


painful expression of loneliness lay upon her pretty 
face ! 

“Johanna, will you listen to me calmly?” asked 
Wenzel, seating himself opposite her. “Do not mis- 
construe what I wish to say to you, for that reason 
do I tell you at such a sorrowful hour. Fate brought 
us together, I knew you before I came to your aid in 
the wood. Your eyes had already made a deep im- 
pression upon me!” 

“Herr Wenzel!” interrupted Johanna. 

“Let me finish!” implored the young man. “If I 
tell you to-day when your heart is bowed down with 
grief, how deeply and tenderly I love you, if I choose 
this solemn moment for this confession I do it that 
I may have a right to comfort you and to stand by 
you. I wish to help you to bear your sorrow. I love 
you dearly, Johanna, and have only one wish: to be 
able to consecrate my life to you.” 

He seized Johanna’s hand, but she withdrew it; she 
was confused, for she had not expected that avowal. 

“Your heart is not free — you are already bound!” 
she replied. 

“I am free and my heart, all my thoughts are 
youis!” cried Wenzel in agitation. 

Johanna rose, took a letter from a box and silently 
handed it to him. 

Wenzel glanced through it; it told of his engage- 
ment to Hassel’s sister and was not signed, still he 
thought he could recognize Hassel’s handwriting. 

“And this — this — you believe?” cried he. 

Johanna did not reply. 


9 S 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


In a few words he related the facts as they were. 

“I never loved his sister!” he added. “Johanna, 
since I have seen you, you alone have ruled in my 
heart. Tell me to-day that you will trust yourself to 
my keeping. I am poor and have nothing but what 
I earn, but I will keep you from want. Tell me 
that you will be my wife.” 

After a pause, she calmly extended her hand to 
Wenzel and said firmly: 

“I will be yours. I will be faithful to you for your 
happiness from this hour is mine and your honor is 
mine.” 

Blissfully Wenzel pressed Johanna to his breast. 

“I thank you for those words!” he cried. “Now 
you are mine, now I have a right to care for you; 
now I am no longer alone! I will hold you sacred, 
Johanna; you shall be wife, mother and sister to 
me.” 

It was a solemn betrothal. Silently, hand in hand 
they sat beside one another. Although Johanna’s 
eyes were sorrowful when she raised them to her 
lover’s, the hope of happiness gleamed in them and 
she pressed the hand to which she confided herself. 


VII. 


Ina had not found the required rest at her aunt’s 
house. 

The latter, Thekla Bremer, an old lady of sixty, 
tried to comfort her, but she did not understand Ina’s 
grief. 

Her consolation consisted solely in efforts to con- 
vince the girl of the wickedness of men to whom she, 
as a disappointed old maid, cherished a decided aver- 
sion. 

“Child, men are all bad,” said Thekla. “Trust a 
man and you will be deceived! I am happy because I 
have never allowed myslf to be cheated. Learn to 
hate men, ‘as I do; they deserve nothing better.” 

Life with her aunt and her cronies became more 
and more unbearable to Ina. She would have left 
her long before had she known whither to turn. She 
was entirely alone; her father’s former friends had 
deserted her; life seemed sadder and more melan- 
choly than ever. 

In the midst of her despair, she received Johanna’s 
letter in which she informed her both of her mother’s 
death and of her engagement. 

Ina read the letter again and again, for the letter 
brought her a breath of peace. 

Ina gave it to her aunt to read; the latter scoffed 
99 


100 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


at the sentiment expressed therein, and observing her 
dejection taunted her with still loving the lieutenant 
and with her evident willingness to pardon him should 
he present himself before her. 

“Yes, I would forgive him,” replied Ina. 

“Is that so?” cried she, and her voice trembled 
with agitation. “You would perhaps even invite him 
to my house? Well, a welcome from me would not 
be lacking! See, had I known that you were such a 
fool, that you would so stubbornly resist all rea- 
soning, I would never have taken you with me. That 
is the thanks I receive for taking you when you were 
alone and no one bothered about you!” 

Ina’s pale cheeks at those words grew still paler, 
for she recalled with what affection Johanna had clung 
to her. 

“Well, perhaps Lieutenant von Brankow would 
have helped you!” cried Thekla mockingly, and with 
those words she left the room. 

Fixedly, silently Ina looked after her; those scorn- 
ful words had wounded her so deeply that she could 
not speak. 

But of one thing she felt assured; she could not 
remain in her aunt’s house where she felt more alone 
than ever in her life. The thought of escaping her 
aunt and hastening to Johanna arose within her, and 
she made a hasty decision. 

She passed a sleepless night, and when her aunt 
entered her room the next morning, she feigned in- 
disposition in order to be left alone. But her aunt 
did not leave her, she urged her to drink some tea, 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


ior 


and only at noon did she repair to her room to allow 
Ina some time to rest. Making a hasty decision she 
donned her cloak, took a few necessaries and left the 
house quietly. She reached the station in safety. 
Fate seemed favorable to her, for the train which 
was to take her to her friend, would soon leave town, 
probably before her aunt would miss her. 

It was late at night when she reached the city. 
Timidly she left the platform, no carriage was to be 
had. 

In order not to be recognized by any old acquaint- 
ances, she drew the veil over her face and hastened 
towards Johanna’s house. Her heart throbbed loudly 
with joy and fear, for she had never been on the 
street alone at so late an hour. She turned pur- 
posely into a quieter and dimly-lighted side-street, 
because she hoped there at least to meet no one who 
knew her. 

She saw several officers coming towards her. For 
an instant she hesitated — should she turn back ? That 
would attract attention; she crossed the narrow street 
and walked rapidly on. 

“See, there is a solitary night-bird!” cried one of 
the officers, laughing. 

She fancied she recognized the voice — no, it was 
not possible! She saw the officer cross over and ap- 
proach her. 

“Leave the poor thing in peace!” said one of the 
men. 

“No, I want to see if she is young; and if she is 
pretty I will make her pay toll !” cried the owner of 
the voice so familiar to her. 


tO'l 


THE W0RKINGMAN*S WIFE 


The officer caught up with her and laid his hand 
upon her arm. 

“Halt, little one! Raise the veil cried he. 
“Ha, ha! Not so coy!” continued the officer, heedless 
of his comrade’s warning. “Be silent! At this hour 
only night-birds fly!” 

He tried to seize Ina. 

“Back!” cried she in an angry voice. 

“Be still, little one, I shall not kill you!” cried the 
officer, throwing his arm about her, forcibly raising 
her veil and leaning over her in order to kiss her. 

Ina uttered a loud, terrified cry, and the officer re- 
coiled when he saw the girl’s pale face — it was Bran- 
kow. 

For a second he stood motionless; his lips moved 
but he uttered no sound; then he hurried away. 

“She does not seem to be very pretty,” said his 
comrades, as he rejoined them. “You are silent; 
what has happened? Did what you saw beneath the 
veil startle you so much? Did you see the veiled 
image of Sais?” 

Brankow left them quickly and silently; he could 
not bear their ridiculing remarks. 

When Brankow left her, Ina leaned half-fainting 
against the wall of a house. She then gathered the 
remainder of her strength and hastened to the house 
in which Johanna lived. The porter opened the door 
and asked whom she wished to see. She could not 
reply; like someone persecuted she hurried through 
the dark hall and up the dark stairs. 

Violently she knocked at Johanna’s door and when 



Ina uttered a loud, terrified cry, and the officer recoiled when he saw 
the girl’s pale face, — Page 102, 


io4 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


the latter opened it, she cast herself upon her breast 
with a half-suppressed cry. 

In affright Johanna embraced her friend. 

“Ina, where do you come from?” cried she. 

Ina could not reply. She was at length resting 
upon the breast for which she had yearned and on 
which she could weep. 

Johanna led her friend into her small room and 
there the two girls sat until late at night. 


VIII. 


Ina remained with her friend a few weeks, then her 
aunt came to fetch her. She willingly returned with 
her for she no longer feared the hatred which the old 
lady cherished towards men. Her heart was not 
Brankow’s; there was a void within it which nothing 
could fill. 

Johanna had grown fonder and fonder of Wenzel 
and one Sunday afternoon, Johanna and he ap- 
proached the altar and were joined in the bonds of 
holy matrimony; only two of her friends and a friend 
of Wenzel’s were present. 

The ceremony was more than simple, still it im- 
pressed the couple; they needed not to be reminded 
that they were bound for life. 

After the marriage they repaired to a village near 
the town. Wenzel was supremely happy, while upon 
Johanna’s pretty face lay an expression of thought- 
ful seriousness. 

“I would now change places with no one!” said 
Wenzel to Johanna. 

“I should like to know if twenty years from now 
we shall love one another so dearly.” 

“I hope more dearly. Upon my heart you can 
safely depend,” replied Johanna. 

“And you upon mine!” cried Wenzel. 

105 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


io 6 

Carriages drove up to the much-frequented inn; 
from one of the finest Johanna saw a gentleman 
alight with his wife. 

Hastily she turned her head aside, for she knew 
them both; she had seen both at Platener’s house; 
it was the wealthy merchant, Wolfram, with his wife. 
They entered the garden slowly. 

Although Johanna purposely averted her head, she 
was nevertheless recognized by the lady; for a mo- 
ment she paused and looked through her glasses, then 
she hastily advanced and uttered Johanna’s name. 

With a blush the latter rose, 

“Ah! I have not seen you for a long time!” cried 
the woman, with half-familiar, half-condescending 
friendliness. “I have not seen you since Platener’s 
death and thought you had left town. What has be- 
come of Ina? The poor girl was terribly afflicted, 
for she was innocent of her father’s crimes,” 

Johanna informed her that Ina was at her aunt’s. 

“Did her betrothed leave her in the lurch too?” 
continued the wealthy lady. 

Johanna replied in the affirmative. 

“How are you getting on, Johanna?” questioned 
the woman. “You too must have suffered by Plat- 
ener’s death.” 

“I was married to-day,” said Johanna. 

“Married?” repeated Frau Wolfram in surprise. 
“To whom? What is your husband?” 

She glanced at Wenzel, beside whom Johanna had 
been seated. 

“He is foreman in a furniture factory.” 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 107 

A mocking smile flitted over the interrogator’s face. 
“Foreman !” said she. “I thought you would make 
a better match, for you had opportunities to learn to 
know many young men who were more suitable for 
you.” 

A dark flush overspread Johanna’s face; those 
words sounded like a slur upon her husband. 

“Why did you not come to me? I could have 
helped you to make a better match,” interpolated 
Wolfram, whose eyes rested with pleasure upon Jo- 
hanna’s pretty face. “Perhaps necessity drove you 
to this step; well, I hope you will never rue it.” 

He had uttered the words in so loud a tone that 
Wenzel must have heard them. Trembling with ex- 
citement, Johanna looked at her husband; he was 
talking earnestly with his friend; it was to be hoped 
that he had not heard those words. 

She raised her head and looked Wolfram full in the 
face. 

“I shall not regret it, for I love and respect my hus- 
band,” she replied. “After the sorry experiments I 
had made, this firm conviction took possession of 
me: that work is the surest foundation for a happy 
life. I can not look down upon work, because I es- 
teem it, and because it is a capital that will bring its 
interest every time.” 

That answer seemed to surprise the wealthy mer- 
chant; he glanced at his wife and then shrugged his 
shoulders. 

“Perhaps it is as well that you should remain in 
the station to which your father belonged/’ said Frau 



wedd^gday r ^ g ^ oy,Wenzel; you seem to b ? very happy on your 



THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


log 

Wolfram. “I do not look down upon the working- 
class because we can not do without them; however, 
they will always have a peculiar rank of their own, 
and I think that must be because they will never ob- 
tain the refinement which wealth makes possible. I 
hope you may prosper.” 

With a proud nod of the head she proceeded on 
her way. 

Visibly agitated, Johanna again joined her hus- 
band; she made an effort to conceal the wound made 
by the haughty woman of the world —but she did not 
succeed. 

“What ails you?” asked Wenzel in astonishment. 

“Nothing, but I pray you let us return home,” re- 
plied Johanna. 

“No, we will celebrate to-day! What has hap- 
pened? Who was the lady with whom you were 
speaking?” 

“I met her at Platener’s — she inquired for Ina.” 

“And did that agitate you so much?” 

“That did not — Ido not feel well,” replied she. 

Wenzel looked at her searchingly; did he divine 
that she was not telling him the truth? 

“It will pass off,” said he. 

“Please let us go home,” again implored Johanna. 

Wenzel rose in silence. 

On their way home, they met Hassel, his sister and 
two gentlemen, driving in a fine carriage. Wenzel 
turned away his head in order not to see them, but 
in a mocking voice the bookkeeper called out: “I 
wish you much joy, Wenzel. You seem to be very 


IIO 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


happy on your wedding day! Ha, ha! If your mar- 
riage only does not terminate like your engagement!” 

Wenzel paused and drew himself up to his full 
height; he was about to reply angrily to that taunting 
remark, but the carriage rolled quickly by and Jo- 
hanna drew him gently away with her. 

They entered the dwelling which from that time 
forth they were to occupy in common. It was small 
and modest, but from every corner happiness peeped 
forth. 

Blissful weeks and months passed by. Wenzel 
lived only for his young wife, who loved her husband 
dearly and who was happy; still, frequently a dim 
foreboding arose within her that her happiness would 
be short-lived. Although she appreciated her hus- 
band’s frank and honorable character, her shrewd 
penetration had already divined that he was weak; 
he was easily led, and might by a scheming mind be 
influenced against his principles. 

At present there was no danger; he lived only for 
her, was satisfied with his position, the wages of which 
were sufficient for all his requirements, and used every 
effort to improve himself. Had not the owner of the 
factory worked his way up from a small beginning? 


IX. 


Frobel, the large manufacturer, was envied by all 
his employes. He was rich, had a fine mansion and 
rode in his own carriage. Could he not indulge every 
desire? 

Frobel was wealthy but not as happy as his work- 
men thought, for his family relations were not of the 
pleasantest. 

He had only two children, a daughter and a son, 
and it was they who marred his happiness. As neither 
he nor his wife were educated, their children received 
only a superficial education. He had spoiled and 
humored his daughter, Engeline, and his wife had 
done the same with their son, Gerhard ; for years they 
had reproached themselves and the consequence was 
discord in the family. 

For several years Engeline had been married to a 
landed owner named Halben. Frobel as once proud 
of his daughter’s fortunate marriage, but that happi- 
ness did not last long. Halben’s estate was mortgaged ; 
as he cared little for the management of it, he was 
soon forced to sell it. 

For some time Engeline never addressed a letter to 
her father, without asking for money, and he sent it 
with the assurance that he would send no more, but 
he was always weak enough to break his word, 
ill 


112 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


He likewise was annoyed by his son’s conduct. He 
acted so disgracefully at the Polytechnical school that 
his father had to take him away. He then fell in 
with a number of soldiers in whose company he ac- 
quired extravagant tastes. He drank champagne and 
played cards. 

His father paid his debts and hoped that Gerhard 
would begin a new life; but in that hope he was dis- 
appointed. He did not sever his connections with 
his extravagant companions, and when he was not 
with them, he was so fatigued, that he found it was 
more comfortable to lounge upon a sofa at home 
and to smoke a cigar than to repair to the factory. 

Gerhard was not in the habit of supping with his 
parents; he did not like the flavor of his mother’s tea, 
and his father’s wine was too common. So much the 
more astonished was Frobel when Gerhard one even- 
ing entered the room as he was about to sit down to 
the table with his wife. 

“Ah, I did not know that you would be here to eat 
with us,” cried Frau Frobel with delight, as she rang 
the bell and bade the maid who entered lay another 
cover. 

“Thank you, I care for nothing to eat,” replied 
Gerhard curtly, casting himself into a rocking-chair. 

He was finely dressed and seemed ready to go out; 
his face was inclined to be handsome, while upon it 
was an expression of weariness. He was always 
bored in his parents’ company. His mother annoyed 
him with her attentions, his father with his reproaches 
and admonitions. 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 




“At least you will drink a cup of tea,” continued 
Frau Frobel. 

“You know I never drink tea,” replied Gerhard, 
impatiently, “not even when I am ill.” 

His mother glanced anxiously at him. 

“Are you ill?” cried she, drawing a step nearer. 
“You are not prudent enough. You should be so for 
my sake.” 

Almost angrily Gerhard turned away his head. 

“Mother, I pray you !” cried he impatiently. “I feel 
very well, and moreover I am no longer a child.” 

Since his son’s entrance Frobel had slowly paced 
the room and had as yet uttered no word. He was 
not in a good-humor, for Engeline had again written 
him for money. “Leave your son in peace, you see 
he has simply come to call upon us!” cried he at 
length. “You ought to know that our table is too 
simple for him; he is used to better fare than his 
father!” 

Those sharp words did not seem to make the slight- 
est impression upon Gerhard; he shrugged his shoul- 
ders slightly, while his eyes rested calmly upon his 
father. “I have very little time to-day,” said he. 
“Baron von Gersdorffen has invited me to supper and 
I am ready to go.” 

“Baron von Gersdorffen?” repeated Frau Frobel. 
She could not conceal her satisfaction that her son 
was intimate with a baron, although she knew that 
the latter’s reputation was not of the best. 

“Are many invited to the supper?” asked his mother 
curiously. 


i 14 the workingman's wife 

“No, it is only a small company, just his intimate 
friends, ” replied Gerhard, looking at his watch. 

“It is already late,” said Frau Frobel. 

“Yes, it is time to go,” said Gerhard. “I should 
be there now did I not dread meeting him, for I owe 
him five hundred marks and can not pay them.” 

Frobel paused at those words. 

“You owe him money?” he asked. “For what?” 

“I bet with him and lost,” said Gerhard, as calmly 
as if the bet were for a five-penny piece. 

“Unparalleled!” cried Frobel, “you bet for such a 
sum, while you have never earned a dollar in your 
life! At your age I would have considered myself 
fortunate had I had five hundred marks! My father 
could give me nothing! I had to take care of myself, 
to work in the day time and to get my education at 
night.” 

Again his son shrugged his shoulders and rose. 

“Behind me,” continued his father angrily, “lies a 
life full of work and care; by industry I made what I 
have. You will surely never do that, for you do not 
know what work is.” 

Gerhard toyed with his watch-charm. 

“I am satisfied with my situation,” said he; “will 
you give me the money I need?” 

“No,” replied Frobel decidedly. “If you want to 
bet for such sums, earn the money yourself.” 

“Frobel, you must not expose your son in this way 
to his friends,” interposed his wife. “I concede that 
it was wrong of him to bet so high, but as he has done 
so, you must not refuse to help him; he will never do 
so again.” 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


”5 

“I thought you would take his part,” exclaimed the 
husband. “You have always spoiled him and you 
can now see to what it leads.” 

“Stop, mother!” cried Gerhard. “Father only has 
money for Engeline. She always gets what she asks 
for! Although I have the same claims that she has ” 

“Be silent!” exclaimed Frobel violently. The words 
irritated him all the more because they were true. 

“So you have!” agreed the mother. 

Frobel cast a bitter glance at his wife; then he 
hastily turned toward his desk. 

“Here — here!” cried he, throwing the money upon 
the table. “Squander what I have worked so hard 
for! Warnings are of no avail; it is the fashion for 
children now-a-days to be more clever than their 
parents.” 

Gerhard seemed scarcely to have heard his father’s 
words; he walked to the table and put the gold pieces 
in his purse. A contented expression rested upon his 
features, for he had obtained what he desired. With 
a hurried bow he left the room and as he descended 
the stairs he whistled an operatic air. 

In the gayest mood Gerhard walked along the street. 
He cared not for the ill-feeling his conduct had caused. 
Suddenly a hand was laid upon his shoulder and a 
voice cried: “Frobel, I thought you were there long 
ago!” 

He turned quickly. 

A tall, slender form stood before him. The deep- 
set, gray eyes had a dissipated look, the sharply-cut 
lips had a bitter, sarcastic expression, which was not 


Il6 THE WORKINGMANS WIFE 

even softened by the fair mustache above them. The 
cheeks were pale and sunken. The man was scarcely 
thirty, but he looked at least fifteen years older; 
even his form was somewhat bent. It was Baron von 
Gersdorffen, of whom Frobel had spoken with such 
scorn; and of whom many spoke more severely still. 

“Ah, Baron, it is you!” cried Gerhard. “I could 
not come sooner, for I had to squeeze money out of 
my old man first; and that is not easy when he is bad- 
tempered. It was very hard to-day to get any; do 
you know what strategy I had to employ?” 

“Well?” 

“I told him I had lost a bet with you of five hundred 
marks, and that it was unpleasant for me to meet you 
without having paid my debt.” 

“Excellent !” laughed the baron. “And I suppose 
he then railed against me for leading his son astray.” 

Arm-in-arm they proceeded on their way, entered 
a wine vault and one of the small private rooms, from 
which issued loud voices. 

They were greeted by five men, who were seated 
at a table drinking wine, with reproaches for their 
tardiness. 

One of the five our reader has already made the 
acquaintance of: it was the bookkeeper, Hassel. Be- 
side him sat a short, bent form, with dark, malicious 
eyes, it was the joiner, Schramm. He complained 
of every one, and was possessed of a malignant, sly 
disposition, so that no one dared to oppose him, be- 
cause every one feared him. 

His neighbor seemed to belong to a race of giants, 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 117 

Everything about him was large, his form, his hands, 
his face, his mustache, his thirst and his stupidity. 
His name was von Bursten and he had been master 
of the horse at some insignificant prince’s. 

He served the company as a butt because he was 
too dull to comprehend their jokes. 

The fourth was a retired merchant, one Mertens, 
who was always bored and in consequence yawned 
incessantly. 

The fifth was a Doctor Russel, who sat quietly in a 
corner and was the most interesting person of all. 

He was undoubtedly the cleverest man there, and 
never participated in the conversation, but occasion- 
ally interpolated a few witty or malicious words. 

His acquaintances called him doctor and behind his 
back the pump Doctor , for he owed every one some- 
thing and no one ever expected to receive a dollar. 

The baron had first introduced Gerhard into the 
circle. The latter assured the baron that any com- 
pany into which be took him was agreeable to him, 
although he did not fancy being thrown with his 
father’s bookkeeper. But Hassel had met him so 
affably, that they speedily became friends and stood 
upon a familiar footing. 

The aim of that small company assembled was not 
other than to gamble. The six members beside Ger- 
hard had a secret understanding that they would 
divide the profits; in order to do so every one had 
promised occasionally to introduce a guest who had 
money and which was taken from him without his 
suspecting the agreement made. 


1 18 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


On his entrance, Hassel rose to welcome Gerhard. 
The two men shook hands, Hassel drew young Fro- 
bel aside. 

“Have you money?” he asked. 

“Certainly!” replied Gerhard, naming the s-um he 
had received from his father. 

The bookkeeper’s eyes sparkled. “Let us play 
together to-day,” said he. “I should like to see the 
others lose.” 

As they conferred, the baron called to Gerhard to 
come and partake of the wine he had ordered. 

Then the table was cleared, cards brought and the 
game began. 

At first Gerhard won, then he lost, and scarcely 
two hours had flown when his last gold-piece was 
gone. His face glowed with excitement. 

“Have you any money?” he asked Hassel. 

The latter took out a few dollars. 

“This is all I have,” he cried. “Luck seems entirely 
to have forgotten that I still exist.” 

The baron observed that Gerhard was not staking. 
“Frobel, you are remarkably timid to-day!” cried he. 
“Here,” and he pushed ten gold pieces towards him. 
“You know I am aways glad to lend you a trifle.” 

Gerhard hesitated. 

“Take it! Borrowed money brings luck!” whis- 
pered Hassel. “You may win back what you have 
lost; only keep up your courage.” 

Gerhard took the money; it was a matter of indif- 
ference to him whether he lost ten gold pieces more 
or less, 



And he lost them in less than an hour. In excitement he rose. 
Page 120. 







1-20 


THE WORKINGMAN^ WIFE 


And he lost them in less than an hour. In excite- 
ment he rose 

“I can not play any more; I am losing all the time!” 
cried he. 

Nor could he be persuaded to drink or play, and 
the company broke up. 


X. 


Gerhard and Hassel walked along in silence. Ger- 
hard was vexed at his loss; Hassel was secretly 
delighted, for he would obtain a large share of the 
profits, but his face was more moody than that of 
his companion. 

“We both made mistakes to-day !” said he at length. 
“You lost more than I did, but you can stand it bet- 
ter.” 

“I shall give up playing,” said Gerhard. 

“That would be absurd!” said Hassel. “We will 
first win back what we lost. Then it will be time 
enough to give up.” 

“The past few months I have lost a good deal and 
I do not know where I shall get the money. To my 
father I surely cannot turn again so soon.” 

“There is Kronberg.” 

“The fellow is impudent; I do not want anything 
to do with him. I was there to-day to get money; 
he said he had none and was not able to get any.” 

“There must be some misunderstanding,” said Has- 
sel. “Kronberg has money, although he pretends to 
be a poor man who has to struggle for an existence. ” 

“He even refused to prolong the note he has from 
me.” 

“He is mad. I will see him to-morrow morning. 

121 


122 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


He must do as you wish: prolong the note and pro- 
cure you money! Tell me how much you require; he 
shall give it to you.” 

“Have you such power over him?” asked Gerhard 
doubtfully. 

“I should think so,” said Hassel with a smile. “I 
shall simply tell him you will apply to his friend Low- 
enberg, then he will give it to you, for he grudges his 
friend a transaction. How much do you want? May 
I advise you? Do not apply to Kronberg so often, 
but borrow a large sum, that will increase his confi- 
dence, and I assure you he will agree to it. Will 
three thousand marks be sufficient?” 

“Certainly!” cried Gerhard. “But I doubt if he 
will do it.” 

“Leave that to me!” interrupted Hassel. “Have 
you seen Betty to-day?” 

“No, I have not had a spare hour to-day; but I 
have prepared a surprise for her.” 

“What is it? You may tell me; I will not betray 
your secret.” 

“Well, I have rented finely located, prettily fur- 
nished apartments for Betty and hope she will be 
pleased. She said the other day she was dissatisfied 
with her present abode.” 

“Betty will be delighted when you tell her the 
news; where are the apartments?” 

Gerhard named the street and house. 

“I have another reason for not wishing her to re- 
main with you. You know, an aunt of mine lives 
opposite you, and she has nothing to do but retail 


the workingman's wife 


123 


scandal. She would soon discover my frequent visits 
and inform my father.” 

Hassel was silent for a moment; he seemed to be 
pondering over some question. 

“Frobel,” said he at length, “you must not deceive 
yourself. Your father will find out soon enough with- 
out your aunt’s aid that you love my sister, for there 
are many who delight in betraying others, although 
it does not benefit them in the least. Should that 
happen, do you know what you would do?” 

“I do not understand your question !” said Gerhard. 

“Your father will certainly be displeased. Will 
you give up and desert my sister, if he so desires?” 

“No, I am no longer a child to be commanded. I 
would elope with Betty before I would give her up.” 

It was too dark to perceive the satisfied expression 
which flitted over the bookkeeper’s face. 

“That is right,” said he. “I know your father; he 
seems to be strict, but is not; he will yield when he 
sees that you are determined to have your way. Do 
not allow yourself to be intimidated. Now let 
us return home, for your father is always vexed if I 
am not at business in the morning before him.” 

They separated. 

He awoke later than usual the following morning. 

Betty awaited him at the table. He glanced closely 
at the girl’s pretty face, which was not so fresh and 
pleasant as usual; she was evidently put out. What 
could have ruffled her. 

Silently he drank his coffee, silently Betty drank 
hers. 


124 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


“What ails you?” he asked at length. 

“Nothing,” was the curt, but calm reply. 

“You are so silent without cause.” 

“Are you not often so?” 

“Certainly, but I have a reason.” 

“Who has told you that I have not?” 

“What is it?” 

“You are not usually so sympathetic,” said Bet- 
ty bitterly. “How do I know whether it is sym- 
pathy or curiosity? I am vexed because life is so 
monotonous.” 

“Well, Frobel told me he would call on you to- 
day.” 

“He is the most tiresome man I know.” 

Hassel made a pretense of not hearing that re- 
mark. “He is coming to tell you that he has rented 
other apartments for you, because these do not suit 
you. I want to warn you to be doubly agreeable to 
him.” 

“And if I should not be?” asked the girl. 

“I desire you to be. You know me,” said he, ap- 
proaching her. “If I hear a complaint about you 
from Frobel’s lips, I will withdraw my support from 
you and put you out of my house. You know I will 
keep my word!” 

“You will not dare to, because you knew that I 
could tell a great deal,” said she. “Or do you think 
I do not know why you always win when you play 
with the baron? You have not practiced shuffling 
the cards at home for nothing.” 

“Silence !” interrupted her brother. “I do not wish 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


I2J 


to hear such words, for I know you will not dare to 
do it. You must have learned long since that I do 
not allow myself to be intimidated by anything, but 
carry out what I have once determined to do. I do 
not understand your foolish obstinacy; for if you treat 
Frobel right he will refuse you nothing. I know 
what it is; you love Gersdorffen and are vexed that 
he is not more attentive to you. He is an excellent 
boon companion and knows how to enjoy life, but I 
do not think he can love any one besides himself. 
Think no more of him, that is the best way.” 

“I do not love him,” assured the girl, without look- 
ing at her brother. 

“What a different future can Frobel offer you ! He 
too is frivolous, but his father’s wealth is back of 
him. Will you be pleasant to him?” 

Betty hesitated. 

“Yes,” said she at length. “But answer me one 
question: are you going to the new apartments?” 

“No, I shall remain here.” 

Betty seemed pleased at the reply. 

Why was it so? Was her heart still the baron’s, 
and did she hope to win him easier if she lived alone 
and was not watched? If Betty lived by herself, he 
could yet watch her, and he had no idea of giving up 
his influence over her. 

“Now be sensible and do not act against your in- 
terest,” he repeated. “If you succeed in chaining 
Frobel to you, your future will be assured.” 

He left her to go in search of the broker Krqnberg. 

For years Hassel had been taking money from his 


126 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


employer, for his salary was not sufficient for his ex- 
travagant habits. Up to that time he had succeeded 
in keeping it secret, but he felt that Gerhard’s father 
must finally find it out. He knew only too well what 
punishment would be his, but he hoped to escape it 
through Gerhard. He would not like to see his 
fiancee' s brother in prison; he would do all he could 
to hinder it, and he could, if he represented to his 
father that Hassel could reveal much that would 
criminate him. The manufacturer loved his son, and 
still more his reputation. 

When he entered Kronberg’s room, he found the 
broker busy at his desk. Hastily he closed it and 
rose. 

“Do not lock up your treasures; I will not steal 
them!” cried Hassel jocosely. 

“Treasures?” repeated the broker. “I would be a 
happy man were your words true! Where should a 
poor broker obtain treasures?” 

“Kronberg,” continued Hassel, “you need not try 
to deceive me; you will not succeed. I can easily 
calculate how much a man must possess who takes 
in much and expends little, for you have no pleasures. 
But what do you get out of the money if you save 
and save and lay by dollar after dollar.” 

“It gives me pleasure to count over the little I 
possess. I shall live as I always have.” 

Hassel shrugged his shoulders. 

“Why will you not lend young Frobel any money?” 
he asked. 

“Because I have already given him more than is 
good for him.” 


THE WORKINGMAN^ WIFE 


12 7 


“You need not watch over him?” 

“No, but I want to watch over my savings. The 
young man uses a great deal of money because he has 
friends who live upon him. It would be a matter of 
indifference to me; but were he to be in such a posi- 
tion that he could not pay, none of his friends would 
stand by him!” 

“It will never be necessary, for his father is rich.” 

“If his father would refuse to pay his debts, I 
should be ruined.” 

“His father will never do that.” 

“Do you know it?” 

“I know Frobel too well.” 

“Who can see into the future?” 

“Notwithstanding, I consider your care absurd. 
Kronberg, I often do not understand you! We have 
known one another for years and you know I would 
not persuade you if there was any risk. Prolong the 
young man’s notes, for they are the safest papers 
you possess, and Frobel will pay you a few more per 
cent. But he must not learn that I spoke to you 
about it. He will come to you to-day; he needs 
money; — he wants three thousand marks, and you 
must give them to him!” 

Kronberg started at the words. 

“Three thousand marks!” he repeated. “Am I a 
rich man who can shake three thousand marks out of 
his pocket? I have nothing and will give him noth- 
ing!” 

Hassel, who up to that time had sat calmly in a 
chair smoking a ciagr, sprang up impatiently. 


128 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


“Well, that is enough!” cried he. “You will give 
Frobel three thousand marks to day!” 

“I have not got them!” replied the broker, evad- 
ing the bookkeeper’s glance. “I am not a wealthy 
man who has so much money laid by.” 

“Do you think you can deceive me with words?” 
continued Hassel. “If you have not the money you 
have enough papers upon which you could raise it 
within half an hour. You should be grateful to me 
for helping you to such a good transaction!” 

“I can not!” persisted the broker. 

“Have you forgotten that I can force you, that I 
have a note from you which is forged and that you 
would not escape punishment were I to hand it to the 
authorities?” 

Kronberg did not seem confused by those words. 

“The note is several years old,” he remarked. 

“The crime is not yet very old.” 

“Give it to the authorities— -you too will be pun- 
ished, for you used the note.” 

Hassel shrugged his shoulders. 

“My punishment would be small compared to 
yours.” 

The broker for an instant maintained silence. 

“Herr Hassel, give me back the note and I will 
pay you three thousand marks for it!” he then ex- 
claimed. 

“Will you?” asked the bookkeeper with a mocking 
smile. 

“Of what use is it to you?” continued Kronberg. 
“Had I such a paper in my possession and did some 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


I2g 

one offer me half its value for it, I should gladly give 
it up, for I should look upon it as a good transaction !” 

“You would not do so, because you are too 
shrewd!” said Hassel. “You would be the last one 
to do so, nor will I part with it!” 

“And why not?” 

“I will tell you. As long as I have the forged 
check in my hands, you will fear me, and as long as 
you fear me, you are civil to me. Were I to be in 
difficulties to-morrow, you would help me because you 
would have to. Therefore I shall keep the check and 
you will give Frobel three thousand marks to-day.” 

“I will give him fifteen hundred,” ventured Kron- 
berg. 

“Save yourself the trouble of bargaining, for I will 
not yield one mark. With the high rate of interest 
you will get, you will be in luck.” 

“Will I get my interest? If his father should be 
unfortunate, I would lose the interest as well as the 
capital.” 

“What misfortune should befall Frobel’^ father?” 

“Might he not lose his money ? Have not wealthier 
men lost all? Did not the rich Platener take his 
life, because he lost everything on ‘Change?’ Who 
can say: the man is rich and will be rich a year 
hence?” 

“I can say this of Frobel’s father, he has not such 
poor advisers as Platener; had the latter never met 
you, he would to day be wealthy.” 

Kronberg shrugged his shoulders. 

Hassel left him after repeating that Frobel would 
call upon him. 


XI. 


The apartments Gerhard had rented for Hassel’s 
sister were in the same building in which Wenzel 
lived. Betty took possession of them without Wen- 
zel suspecting that she who had once fascinated him 
by her pretty face and coquettish manner, lived so 
near him. Nor did Betty and Hassel know that 
Wenzel occupied the same house. 

Wenzel’s happiness had as yet been unbroken, for 
Johanna knew only one life-duty: to care for him 
and to make his tiny house as cozy as possible. 

One day some friends taunted him with being un- 
der his wife’s rule to such an extent that he dared 
not spend an evening with them without permis- 
sion. 

“To prove to you that you are wrong I will go with 
you!” he exclaimed. “And if you think that my wife 
will be provoked, you can go with me when I return 
home this evening.” 

Wenzel was silent on reaching the restaurant, but 
the beer soon exorcised all care. 

He had been separated from his friends long 
enough; he had believed that he would not be as 
happy anywhere as at home; now he discovered his 
mitake. It seemed as if he were in another world. 

Gayly he clinked glasses with his friends. 

180 



mm m 

HN 


.Before him stood a short man. — Page 132. 


£32 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


The beer had excited his blood, his cheeks glowed, 
his eyes sparkled. 

“I will join you again to-morrow!” said Wenzel. 
“He is a fool who does not enjoy life. I will en- 
joy it.” 

His words were received with cheers; the glasses 
were refilled and Wenzel drank in order not to betray 
that the beer had mounted to his brain; it was late 
when the company disbanded. 

When he reached the house in which he lived, it 
occurred to him that he had no door-key. He at- 
tempted to open the door — but in vain. 

In order to consider what to do he sat down upon 
the door-steps; but before he could think, his eyes 
close<J, his head fell forward — sleep had overcome 
him. 

Some time had flown before he was aroused and 
he started up in affright. Before him stood a short 
man of about thirty; the small, delicate hand which 
rested upon Wenzel’s shoulder did not seem to be 
accustomed to work. Indeed they worked, but their 
labor did not harden them. 

The man was Dr. Brand, a scholar, who lived on 
the fourth floor. 

“I startled you,” said he to Wenzel. “I saw you 
asleep, and as I lived in the same house, I will open 
the door for you. Come!” 

He unlocked the door and they entered. 

“Ha, ha!” cried the little man laughing .at Wen- 
zel’s uncertain step. “You will have to accept my 
aid! Although I am not tall, I have strength enough 
to hold you.” 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


133 


They ascended the stairs. Johanna, who had 
heard footsteps, stepped out of their room with a 
light in her hand. She started when its rays fell 
upon Wenzel’s face and she saw a strange man with 
him. At the first glance she had divined his con- 
dition and her hand trembled, for she had never seen 
him so; she summoned all her strength to compose 
herself and not to betray her feelings. 

“Your husband forgot the door-key,” said Brand, 
who observed Johanna’s glance. “I met him accident- 
ally, and I was pleased to be able to let him in. 
Good-night!” 

He disappeared hastily. 

Johanna led Wenzel into the room ; she had awaited 
him a long, long time, but no reproach passed her 
lips, — she suspected that he had been led astray by 
acquaintances. 

It vexed Wenzel that she did not reproach him; 
with difficulty he had formed several excuses by which 
to justify himself, and then he could not even express 
them. 

“I could not come sooner,” said he. “I have been 
having a jolly evening with my friends — and to-mor- 
row evening we are to meet again.” 

“Karl, you know I never kept you back,” said Jo- 
hanna. “I am glad, too, when you are happy.” 

“Yes,” continued Wenzel. “I would not have al- 
lowed you to! I love you very dearly, but a man 
must not yield too much to his wife.” 

Johanna knew that he was repeating the words of 
others; therefore she maintained silence in order not 


i34 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


to provoke him by contradiction, for he scarcely 
knew himself what he was saying to her. 

“You should not have awaited me,” began Wenzel 
again. “I do not like to have you remain up so long ! 
Had my friends known it, they would have ridiculed 
me.” 

“I considered it my duty to await you, because you 
promised me to return,” replied Johanna calmly. 

“Well, I changed my mind! I have stayed home 
every evening with you; one must occasionally go 
out in order not to be forgotten by one’s friends. 
You will not grudge me that?” 

A pained expression flitted across the young wife’s 
pale face. Had he changed so suddenly? 

“I do not,” said she, “therefore I at least deserve 
no reproaches for having believed your promise. Take 
from me that faith and you will at once have deprived 
me of peace and happiness!” 

Wenzel looked at her in surprise; he did not know 
what to reply for he felt that she was right. He 
passed his hand over his brow as if trying to collect 
his confused thoughts. 

“Go to bed, Karl,” said Johanna. “You must be 
tired. I do not blame you, for I know that you will 
think differently to-morrow.” 

“I will think just the same to-morrowi” cried 
Wenzel, who would yield in nothing; notwithstand- 
ing he went to bed. 

When he awoke late the following morning his 
head was dull and heavy. Fortunately it was Sunday 
and he was not obliged to go to the factory. He 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 135 

could remember very little of what had happened 
the evening before. What he had said to Johanna 
he had forgotten. He could hear her preparing coffee 
in the adjoining room — was she vexed with him be- 
cause he had returned home in such a condition? She 
had no right to be, for it was the first time she had 
seen him so. 

Angry with himself and ill-humored without know- 
ing the reason, he at length arose. With a half- 
abashed, half-venturesome air he entered the room 
in which Johanna was busy, and he breathed more 
freely when his wife advanced to meet him as pleas- 
antly as usual. He extended his hand and she took 
it; yet it seemed to him as if her eyes were sad. 

She did not mention what had occurred the pre- 
vious night; she did not even ask the name of the 
little man who had brought him home. Wenzel told 
it to her. 

“A short while since I read a pamphlet on the 
labor question,” he added. “It pleased me very 
much, for it was liberal and entirely on our side — I 
should like to know if the little man wrote it.” 

“Why not ask him?” suggested Johanna. “Can 
you not do so to-day? You need only call upon him 
to thank him for the service he rendered you.” 

“You are right!” cried Wenzel. “I will thank him 
and at the same time tell him how it happened that 
I returned home so late.” 

On reaching Doctor Brand’s door, Wenzel paused; 
the room was quiet. Was the little student asleep? 
Almost shyly he tapped at the door and the reply was 
barely audible: “Come in!” 


136 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


He entered. In the tiny room whose table and 
chairs were covered with books, he saw the doctor 
sitting at a writing-desk; he merely turned his head 
as if the interruption were not very pleasant. 

“What is it?” asked Brand, without rising from his 
seat. 

“I wanted to thank you for your kindness in open- 
ing the door for me last night,” replied Wenzel 

Brand then recognized him and rose hastily. 

“Ah, it is you!” he exclaimed, offering Wenzel his 
hands. “Thanks are unnecessary, for the service I 
rendered you is not worth speaking of; still I am 
pleased that you came and that I shall have an op- 
portunity of becoming better acquainted with you.” 

He cleared the books and papers from a small sofa 
that Wenzel might sit down. 

The latter glanced around the room, which wore an 
almost poverty-stricken air. 

: “I am sorry that you saw me in such a condition,” 
said he. “A few friends accidentally — ” 

“Cease — cease!” interrupted Brand with a smile. 
“Do you not know the old song: ‘He who has never 
been tipsy?’ ... I am of the opinion that he who 
works hard day after day should consider it his duty 
to do so. I know you are a workingman. You see, 
they always charge them with indulging in too many 
and too extravagant pleasures; they require them to 
be diligent, economical and modest in their wants; 
they say to them: You should be glad to have a 
living; think constantly of the future! You do not 
need enjoyment; you have no money for it! If you 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


137 


earn three marks a day and save fifty pence, in a 
year you will have one hundred and eighty marks, 
and that is a small capital for you, not alone in case 
of illness, but too if you wish to rise higher and to 
become independent! It can not be denied that the 
calculation is quite correct — and yet it is not! You 
look at me in astonishment, my words seem to you 
contradictory, — pray, listen to me a moment. I con- 
cede, that a workingman, if he denies himself every 
pleasure and lives economically, can save, even if his 
wages be small; but what he gains in that way, he 
loses in another, in his love of work and his energy 
and disposition. Deny yourself every pleasure for 
one year, you will save money; but you will become 
as a machine which goes systematically about its 
work, and can be used for only one purpose. You 
will never be anything more. Is it not so?” 

Wenzel was forced to agree with him, his words 
were convincing. 

“You see,” continued the doctor, whose face had as- 
sumed a different expression, “the love of work is 
strengthened by enjoyment, the courage is sustained. 
Am I not right ?” 

He spoke rapidly and enthusiastically. The truths 
which lay in his words sounded so enticing. Wenzel 
had at first been ashamed that Brand had seen him 
in a state of intoxication; it now seemed to him not 
only allowable, but essential. 

“Yes, you are right, Doctor!” cried he. “And now, 
permit me to ask one question: Did you write the 
pamphlet on the workingman?” 


138 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


“Yes. Have you read it?” 

“Certainly!” 

“How did you like it?” 

“Very much indeed! If I could write — I would 
write just that way!” replied Wenzel. 

The student’s short form seemed to grow; his eyes 
gleamed. 

“I am glad of that!” he said. “Now we are no 
longer strangers, and shall understand one another 
better, for you know, that I am on the workingmen’s 
side, and will stand by them in any case! This work 
has given me much pleasure and made many enemies 
for me!” 

“Are you married?” asked Wenzel. 

“I married?” repeated the little man in astonish- 
ment. “My friend, I can have no wife and family; 
they would hinder me in the accomplishment of my 
object. I look upon myself as the workingman’s 
apostle; my task is to stir them up that they may 
recognize their strength and power, and cease to be 
machines and tools in the hands of others. Because 
I am a student, the workingmen have no confidence 
in me, and yet I sacrifice myself for them. I have 
already won over to my ideas a small circle of men of 
that class; will you join them? Were you to speak 
to others, they would listen to you in preference to 
me. Have you the courage to do so ? That you are 
capable of it, your intelligent glance betrays.” 

With great attention Wenzel listened to the en- 
thusiastic words; his cheeks glowed, his blood coursed 
more rapidly through his veins, 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


139 


“I have the courage to stand by your side and to 
help you!” cried he in agitation. “Count upon me, 
I will struggle with you !” 

Doctor Brand’s eyes beamed; but he suppressed 
his delight. 

“I believe and trust you; but before you bind 
yourself, I wish to call your attention to one thing,” 
said he. “He who gives me his word is in honor 
bound by it.” 

“You can depend on me, I will not draw back!” 
assured Wenzel. 

“Nor can I conceal from you the fact that the task 
we have on hand requires work and even self-denial. 
The calm, quiet life you have hitherto led, will end; 
you will enter upon a more exciting future — are you 
prepared to do so under these conditions?” 

“Yes!” said Wenzel in a firm voice. How much 
he promised, he did not himself know. 

“Then shake hands!” cried Brand, holding out his 
right hand. “We will keep together, because I feel 
that we belong together. He who wishes to accom- 
plish great things can do so; a firm will is the mighti- 
est power! We will triumph! Let our watchword 
be: Forward! Forward ! Our aim is lofty; we will 
have to climb the heights — but we shall succeed!” 


XII. 


A life of excitement began for Wenzel. Almost 
every evening he spent with Brand, and the man so 
far superior to him in intelligence exercised a great 
influence over him. 

Where were the peaceful, happy evenings on which 
Johanna had awaited Wenzel at a certain hour, on 
which he remained with her, seated beside her, talk- 
ing or reading aloud? 

She had assured him that she was happier than 
she had ever dreamed of being, that she, had never 
wished for a return of her earlier life, and that she 
was perfectly contented in her home. 

For some time Johanna bore his neglect of her in 
silence, finally she looked upon it as her duty to tell 
him frankly that he was taking a dangerous course. 

“You are destroying our happiness and your future,” 
she added. “What change has taken place in you! 
The happy evenings which formerly satisfied you? 
you no longer delight in. Karl, you are forgetting 
that you have a wife, that I too have a claim upon 
you, and that you are becoming estranged from your 
own hearth. Do not undermine your peace of mind !” 

Wenzel felt that Johanna was right; he could and 
dared not acknowledge it to her. 

“You misunderstand me,” he replied. “My love 
140 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


I 4 f 

for you is the same, but other duties have arisen. A 
man can not belong to his family alone, because life 
makes demands upon him. You do not know what 
value Doctor Brand attaches to my opinions. I 
should be betraying our common interests, were I 
to withdraw now.” 

A mournful smile flitted across the young wife’s 
pale face. 

“ Karl, Doctor Brand is your misfortune!” said she. 

Those words irritated Wenzel, for he respected the 
little scholar and was prepared at any moment to 
swear to his words. 

“I do not understand you, Johanna!” he returned. 
“Do you not think Brand honorable? He sacrifices 
himself to his ideas. He works and struggles for us, 
he wishes to gain for us a future, and to win the vic- 
tory for our just cause would sacrifice his life!” 

“I think him honorable, yes, I know that he is!” 
calmly replied his wife. “But, Karl, he is an enthu- 
siast, and when possessed by one idea, a fanatic! 
Just because he believes so firmly in the truth of his 
ideas is he dangerous, for that faith inspires him to 
draw with him many others.” 

“He is no fanatic!” cried Wenzel warmly. “We 
do not desire to be longer the slaves of the wealthy 
who take advantage of us, who roll in the lap of 
luxury while the workingmen suffer!” 

“Karl, you do not suffer ” interpolated Johanna. 
“We were happy until you met Brand and his friends, 
until they scattered the seed of discontent in your 
breast. What you earn serves us for our needs. 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE! 


142 

You have even saved. You entered Frobel’s factory 
voluntarily; he pays you for your work, he can not 
force you to remain with him, — you can leave to-day 
if you want to, — are you then a slave ?” 

“Johanna, you do not understand, so you are not 
capable of judging,” replied Wenzel. “We are slaves! 
Were I to leave Frobel to-day, I should to-morrow 
have to seek work in another factory in order to earn 
a livelihood. Is it not the same if we depend upon 
one man or another? They have only the one aim: 
to enrich themselves through us.” 

“Then you might as well say: Frobel is the slave 
of his men. Were you to leave him to-day, he would 
be obliged to seek other workmen to-morrow in order 
to sustain his business, for by it he earns his bread.” 

“He is rich enough without his factory.” 

“That remark is not correct,” continued Johanna. 
“You yourself have told me that he earned his fort- 
une in that way, and there are thousands of manu- 
facturers who have not fortunes, who have to live by 
their work as well as you by yours.” 

“They earn a hundred times as much as those who 
work for them.” 

“And if they do so, are not their cares greater?” 

Wenzel felt that his wife’s arguments were such 
that it would be difficult to combat them. 

“You defend the manufacturers and employers 
against the just claims of the workingmen? to whom 
your husband belongs!” he exclaimed. “You place 
yourself upon their side, while I hoped that you 
would stand by me. Is not my interest nearer to 
you? I almost believe the contrary.” 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


143 


A pained expression lurked about the young wife’s 
lips. 

“Karl, have I merited that reproach ?” she asked. 
“Since I have been yours, I have had no other inter- 
est than yours; all my thoughts have been centered 
upon you. Because I see you in company which will 
bring you misfortune, I should like to separate you 
from it; I am frank with you, for I consider it my 
duty. You are pursuing a phantom which you will 
never grasp!” 

Wenzel paced the small room in the effort to sup- 
press his agitation. 

“You do not understand me or you would see that 
my one aim is to better the condition of the working- 
man,” said he at length. “I wish to enjoy the fruits 
of my labor, I wish to earn more in order to make 
your life easier and pleasanter. I am thinking of 
you and you undervalue my efforts.” 

Johanna’s loving eyes rested upon her husband. 
Not for a moment had she doubted that his aim 
sprang from a noble source, for his heart was good; 
what grieved her was that he had taken the wrong 
course, that he had allowed others to lead him 
astray. He was blinded and did not know it. 

She approached him and laid her hand upon his 
arm. 

“Karl, have you ever noticed that I was dissatis- 
fied? I am not. Were you to overwhelm me with 
riches and thereby to become estranged from your 
home and me, what would I gain ? Are you not al- 
ready estranged? Do not meetings engage you so 


144 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


entirely that you forget me? The evenings you spend 
with me are very rare, and when you are with me, I 
notice that you are uneasy, that your thoughts are 
busy with other places and people.” 

“It will be different as soon as we have accom- 
plished our purpose,” said Wenzel. “I belong to 
the leaders of those who desire to improve the labor- 
er’s condition and wish to free them from degrad- 
ing bondage; I can not therefore withdraw. It would 
be called cowardly, and must not be.” 

“It will be different,” repeated Johanna, half to her- 
self. “He who once weans himself from his own 
domesticity never finds contentment therein.” 

Those words did not sound like a reproach, but like 
a mournful admonition. They touched Wenzel’s 
heart, and he was forced to confess to, himself that 
he had of late left Johanna too much alone. 

“I can not remain with you to-night; there is to 
be a meeting at which I must be present; moreover 
I promised to come,” he said. “I will come back as 
soon as possible,” continued Wenzel, approaching 
his wife. 

He extended his hand to her and without anger, 
with a grateful glance Johanna laid her right hand 
within it. When he descended the stairs he could 
not forget his wife’s words. He recalled her grate- 
ful glance when he promised to return soon. She 
was alone in the tiny room; how delighted she would 
be were he to return at once ! He had promised to 
attend the meeting, but might he not excuse himself 
through Brand, in whose room a light was still burn- 
ing? 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


145 


He was already on the street when he turned back 
and ascended the stairs to Brand’s apartments. 

Frankly he told the little man that he could not 
go to the meeting and he must excuse him. 

“Why can you not go?” asked Brand calmly. 

“I want to spend the evening with my wife,” was 
Wenzel’s reply. 

“Is that your true reason?” 

“Yes.” 

Doctor Brand rose and his brows contracted. 

“So our cause is not more serious to you?” cried he 
in a sharp, bitter voice. “You wish to belong to the 
leaders and therefore remain away from a meeting 
upon which so much depends, in order to stay with 
your wife? Ha, ha! Had any one else said that of 
you, I would have laughed at him, for I had a better 
opinion of you So that is the courage of which you 
have so often boasted, that your assurance of sacri- 
ficing everything to our cause” 

“I do not lack courage, but I feel it my duty not 
to entirely neglect my wife,” replied Wenzel, half 
confused, half vexed, at Brand’s harsh words. 

“Well, then remain away,” continued Brand. “I 
will tell our friends you could not come, because you 
had to or wanted to stay with your wife. But do not 
be surprised if the confidence you have up to this 
time won, should disappear, if they say of you, you 
could not come because your wife would not allow 
it.” 

“No one will dare to say so,” cried Wenzel start- 
ing up. 


146 


THE WORKINGMAN^ WIFE 


“Can you prevent it being said behind your back? 
Wenzel, I mean well, because I like you and know 
that you are valuable to our cause. Did I not tell 
you before you promised to aid me, that you would 
be called upon to make sacrifices; you say you do 
not wish to neglect your wife; your time is too prec- 
ious to be wasted, The leader of a great cause can 
not sit at home and rock children, he must go out 
into the world.” 

“I will go with you !” cried Wenzel, for Brand’s 
words had their effect upon him. 

“I knew you would do so, and that your decision 
was only called forth by a momentary impulse,” con- 
tinued the little man more calmly. “Be a man and 
remain steadfast only a short time, our goal is coming 
near. Daily we are gaining in numbers, our power 
increases hourly! Do not be abashed by anything! 
Now your wife may complain, but soon — soon we 
will triumph. Later on, you can devote yourself to 
her. Now come to the meeting!” 

Wenzel obeyed, and when they reached the place 
of meeting, when acquaintances advanced and greeted 
him, when glasses were held towards him and the 
beer made his blood course rapidly through his veins, 
he no longer thought of his wife who sat at home 
alone! 

In the meantime Johanna sat in her tiny room; 
the grieved look had disappeared from her features; 
her cheeks were flushed; in her large, dark eyes 
glowed a tender light. She was making garments 
for the tiny being whose advent she anticipated and 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


*47 

which caused her heart to beat more quickly and 
joyfully. 

Would not the bond between herself and her hus- 
band be drawn together more closely, would not the 
helpless creature before it could speak, call to him: 
Remain at home! I have a claim upon your love 
and your care ! 

A new life would begin for her. She would not 
be alone; all day she would have a dear being near 
her for whom she could care, whom she could press 
to her breast. 

It was late when she laid aside her sewing and 
looked at the clock. The sad expression returned, 
for Wenzel had promised to come back early, and it 
was not far from midnight. 

She rose, fetched ink, pen and paper, in order to 
inform Ina of the happiness she anticipated; to her 
friend she could confide all. 


XIII 


Gerhard’s relations with Hassel and his sister be- 
came more and more intimate, for the wily book- 
keeper had gained great power over the frivolous, 
credulous young man by flattering his vanity in every 
possible way. 

Betty suffered his attentions because he over- 
whelmed her with gifts and made it possible for her 
to lead a life of idleness. She did not love Gerhard, 
because her heart beat in secret for the baron; only 
because her brother required it and she was accus- 
tomed to obeying him, was she agreeable to Frobel. 

Of the three thousand marks he had received from 
Kronberg, Gerhard had nothing left; Hassel had as- 
sisted him in borrowing more, and that too had been 
squandered by extravagant living; Gerhard scattered 
the money broadcast and Hassel knew how to man- 
age it, so that a large share fell to him. 

Gerhard’s father had no suspicion of his actions. 
He was to learn of it from a source of which he had 
never dreamed. 

He had written his daughter decisively that he 
would send her no more money, and she was so much 
the more indignant as she had heard the reports of 
Gerhard’s dissipations. With her consent her hus- 
band repaired to the capital to secretly inquire into 
148 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


149 


Gerhard’s doings, and he had developed extraordinary 
talent in that direction. 

When he had collected sufficient proofs, he re- 
paired with them to his father-in-law. Frobel was 
very much surprised when he entered his office, and 
received him coldly, of which treatment he seemed 
unaware. 

When common civilities were exchanged, the sub- 
ject of Engeline’s letter was broached by Frobel, who 
said: “Engelinehas written to me several times, but 
I could not grant her reguest. She surely can not com- 
plain that I have been hard with her, but kindness 
too, has its limits. Were she still in my home, I 
would naturally provide for her; now I can not do 
so altogether, — she should know that.” 

Halben shrugged his shoulders. 

“Luck has been against me,” he observed. “But 
what has happened can not be helped. Engeline 
would not have been so grieved at your refusal, had 
she not known that her brother had squandered larger 
sums and purposely avoided all work which you 
might easily find for him to do.” 

“Gerhard causes me sorrow enough by his mode 
of life,” said the father, “all my efforts to induce him 
to work have been vain; but on one point Engeline 
is mistaken; I have sent her far more money than I 
have given Gerhard.” 

A smile flitted across Halben’s face. 

“Then you do not know the life your son leads,” 
said he. “You do not know what sums of money he 
flings away?” 


THE WORKINGMAN^ WIFE 


150 

“I know, for they come out of my pocket, ” replied 
the manufacturer bitterly. 

“I believe that what you give him is only a small 
share of what he wastes.” 

Frobel gazed at Halben in surprise. 

“I do not understand you,” said he. 

“I mean that the debts which Gerhard makes are 
considerably larger,” returned Halben with com- 
posure. 

“He promised me to contract no more debts, be- 
cause I threatened not to pay them; I hope he has 
not broken his promise and deceived me.” 

Halben smiled mockingly and that smile betrayed 
that he knew more than he wanted to say. 

The smile did not escape Frobel. 

“You know more!” he cried. 

“I did not come to betray Engeline’s brother,” 
said Halben evasively, while at the same time con- 
firmation lay in his words. 

“It is your duty to tell me all,” continued the 
manufacturer. “If Gerhard has deceived me, I will 
act accordingly. I might have perhaps done so 
sooner, but I hoped he would change.” 

Halben still hesitated. 

“I can only speak plainly on one condition,” said 
he. 

“And that is?” 

“Promise me to speak to no one, least of all to 
Gerhard, of what I shall tell you, until you have 
been convinced of the truth yourself!” 

“I promise!” 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


151 

“Gerhard has fallen in with bad companions, who 
seem to take advantage of his inexperience. He 
gambles and invariably loses; he does not seem to 
see that he is probably being cheated.” 

“Can you prove that to me?” interrupted Frobel 
with agitation. 

“Pray, hear me first! Such a life as Gerhard leads 
is expensive. He has therefore many debts; I do 
not know their amount, only Moses Kronberg can 
tell you, for from him he obtained the money.” 

“He sank so low that he borrowed money from that 
man!” cried Frobel bitterly. “Do you know it pos- 
itively?” 

“You can convince yourself of the truth of my in- 
formation. If I may be permitted to give you a piece 
of advice, I would tell you to say to Kronberg that 
you will not pay a mark if he does not confess all 
frankly to you; for it is possible that G‘erhard has 
enjoined silence and has promised him money later 
on.” 

“When I am dead and he can squander the fort- 
une which I have earned by toil and industry?” in- 
terpolated Frobel. 

“That I do not know,” replied Halben, who saw 
with satisfaction the effect of his words. “Bind the 
broker to silence, for I should like you to be yourself 
convinced of the truth of other facts. Gerhard has 
a mistress whom he supports in grand style; he has 
rented a fine suite of apartments for her and provides 
entirely for her comfort. 

“What is her name?” interrupted Frobel. 


152 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


“She is your bookkeeper’s sister.” 

“Hassel’s? Impossible!” 

“It is so! Gerhard is very intimate with the man 
who seems to be his tempter.” 

Frobel paced the floor; he could find no words in 
which to express his indignation. 

“I will drive the fellow away at once!” cried he at 
length. “So far — so far has my son forgotten him- 
self!” 

“You promised me to convince yourself of the truth 
first,” said Halben. “I therefore pray you to conceal 
your righteous anger to-day. This evening Hassel’s 
sister will celebrate her birthday. Gerhard has in- 
vited his friends to celebrate it and has ordered a fine 
champagne supper. The birthday fete will take place 
in the lady’s apartments and this evening you can 
meet there the entire circle in which Gerhard moves.” 

“And Gerhard?” 

“He will surely not be absent.” 

“Halben!” cried Frobel, pausing before his son-in- 
law. “If what you have told me is true, you can ask 
any favor of me; if it is not — I shall require satisfac- 
tion for this calumny.” 

After having again impressed upon his father-in- 
law the necessity of withholding his part in the affair, 
Halben left him. 

When he was alone, Frobel could not forget Hal- 
ben’s words. Was it possible that Gerhard had sunk 
so low? He left the factory in order not to meet 
Hassel for he feared that at the sight of the man he 
might not be able to control himself, and Halben’s 


THE WORKINGMAN^ WIFE 


153 


request that he should assure himself of the truth of 
his information before he spoke of it, seemed reason- 
able to him. 

He walked through several streets in order to re- 
gain his composure; then he repaired to Kronberg. 
His hand trembled, when he knocked at the door. 
He knew the man and his character; he would have 
shown him the door had he entered his house, — and 
now he was going to him himself. 

The broker sprang up in surprise when he saw Fro- 
bel enter, and bowed in the most servile manner. 

“Ah! what an honor, Herr Frobel!” cried he. “I 
did not dream that my threshold would ever be hon- 
ored by your feet; be kind enough to take a seat!” 

Frobel seemed scarcely to hear the words; at least 
he did not notice them. 

“I have a few questions to put to you, and I expect 
to hear the whole truth from you,” said he. 

“Would I dare to tell you an untruth?” replied the 
broker. “Should you say of me: Kronberg is not an 
honorable man? Is it not a duty for an honest man 
to tell the truth?” 

“Did you lend my son money?” asked Frobel. 

Kronberg hesitated a moment. Was it wise to tell 
the whole truth in that case? He considered quickly. 
If Frobel desired to know about his son’s debts, what 
other object could he have than to pay them? 

“Your son came to me and wanted money,” he re- 
plied. “Lord, thought I, the young gentleman must 
be embarrassed; he wants to save his father some 
trouble, and if you do not give him the money, he 


154 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


will perhaps go to some one else and fall into bad 
hands. I therefore gave it to him, because I knew he 
had an honorable father who would not desert his 
son !” 

“What if I should not pay?” cried Frobel. 

“You will pay, Herr Frobel; you are honorable and 
Wealthy.” 

“How large is the sum you loaned my son?” asked 
Frobel. 

Kronberg shrugged his shoulders. 

“I can not remember! The young gentleman came 
often — what could I do?” 

“What security did my son give you? For without 
any you would have loaned him no money.” 

“Would it have been business-like to have done 
so? I am a poor man and must take care of the little 
I have saved. Your son gave me notes.” 

“Show them to me!” 

“Will you take them up?” asked Kronberg, glancing 
slyly at Frobel. 

“Show me the notes, the rest can be arranged af- 
terwards,” cried the latter impatiently. 

Kronberg stepped to his desk and fetched the 
papers. Frobel tried to maintain his composure and 
yet his hand trembled when he received them. The 
blood left his cheeks as his eyes fell upon the figures. 
It was scarcely possible that Gerhard could have spent 
such an amount, and yet the note bore his signature. 

Frobel was not bound to pay the notes, but the 
broker might sue Gerhard and his disgrace would then 
be made public. 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


155 


“Come to me to-morrow with the notes,” said he 
at length. “But one condition I impose. Tell no 
one of this; nor must you tell my son to-day that I 
was here, that I know of this matter. If you do not 
fulfil these conditions to the letter, you will not re- 
ceive a mark from me.” 

The broker’s eyes glittered. 

“I will be silent,” he replied. “You shall say that 
Kronberg keeps his promise.” 

“One thing more. Where did you meet my son?” 

The broker shrugged his shoulders. 

“I do not know where I had the honor.” 

“Did my son come to you alone at first?” 

The broker’s reply was evasive. 

“I must know the truth!” cried Frobel impatiently. 
“Try to deceive me and you will gain nothing.” 

“A gentleman came with him.” 

“Who?” exclaimed Frobel. 

“Your bookkeeper!” 

“Did you know him?” 

“I know many people in town, I have lived there 
a long time and meet many.” 

“You paid Hassel for bringing my son to you?” 
cried Frobel. 

Kronberg’s eyes fell, he did not seem to relish the 
fact that the manufacturer should have seen through 
his scheme. 

“For what should I pay him?” he replied. “If I 
lend any one money, I grant him a favor, he does 
not grant me one. I would have loaned your son 
tnoney had not Hassel come with him! Of what use 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


156 

was the bookkeeper to me? Would he be able to 
pay the note if you could not? What do I care for 
Hassel? Nothing, I say, nothing!” 

Frobel made no reply, but left the room. 

In the evening Halben was seated in the wine-vault, 
where he had appointed a meeting with his father- 
in-law. He had written Engeline a few hasty lines 
when Frobel entered the room. His face was moody 
and sad. 

Halben hastened to meet him. 

“Well,” he asked, asEe led the way to the table at 
which he had been seated, “have you already made 
inquiries?” 

“I was at Kronberg’s,” said Frobel calmly. 

“Did I exaggerate?” 

“No, no. On the contrary,” cried the manufacturer, 
“Gerhard has deceived me in the most shameful man- 
ner.” 

“Shall you pay his debts?” asked Halben. 

“Yes.” 

“I do not think you are obliged to.” 

“Shall I let the broker sue him and make it pub- 
lic? My name has always been unsullied; and now 
my son must bring disgrace upon it.” 

“No one can blame you for that!” remarked Hal- 
ben. 

“Yes, yes, they can! I blame myself for having 
been too weak with Gerhard. He has abused my 
kindness. Now it is high time to be strict with him 
and — I shall be!” 

“Do not form any decision to-day.” warned Halben, 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


157 


“To-morrow you will be calmer. I told you as well 
that Gerhard has a mistress whom he provides with 
every luxury, that this evening he will celebrate her 
birthday in a brilliant manner. I would be pleased if 
you would yourself prove the truth of my words. To- 
morrow Gerhard will deny all, and I do not wish to 
be looked upon as a liar.” 

“I will do so!” cried Frobel. “It will be difficult 
for me, and I do not yet know if my strength will 
hold out.” 

“You must control yourself, and you will do so, be- 
cause you owe it to yourself. You are agitated now. 
Come, drink a glass of wine with me; that will calm 
and strengthen you.” 

Frobel seated himself and hastily drained his glass 
of its contents. After drinking several, he felt some- 
what more relieved. 

“Come with me,” said he. 

“Spare me that,” besought Halben. “Gerhard 
would at once divine that I led you thither.” 

“Then I will go alone !” cried Frobel, rising. “The 
wine had inspired him with new courage. “We shall 
meet again to-morrow,” he added, extending his hand 
to his son-in-law. 

Halben remained in the vault and ordered another 
bottle of wine; alt seemed to be going according to 
his wishes, for Frobel’s excitement assured him that 
he would not be too forgiving. 


XIV. 


In Betty’s apartments all was very merry. Glasses 
were clinked and the sound of loud voices betrayed 
that the wine had already accomplished its work. 
At a table covered with food and wine-bottles sat 
Betty and Gerhard, Hassel, the baron, Dr. Russel 
and von Bursten. 

On a flower-bedecked table at the window lay the 
elegant gifts with which Gerhard had that morning 
surprised Betty, — silks and costly jewels. Those 
gifts had put Betty in the gayest of moods; she 
was exceptionally affable towards Gerhard, whose 
eyes gleamed triumphantly. 

The master of the house, who as usual served as 
a butt for the company assembled, was called upon 
for a speech. After much urging he began in an un- 
steady voice: “Gentlemen and ladies — ” 

“There is only one lady present !” interrupted Rus- 
sel. 

“Silence, do not interrupt!” cried the baron. 

“Gentlemen and ladies,” again began von Bursten. 
“I am indeed pleased — ” he hesitated. “Yes, I am 
indeed pleased — ” he paused again and looked 
around him in confusion. 

At what he was pleased, he seemed to have entirely 
forgotten. Again he passed his hand over his brow 

m 



' • «i to^wU^b^therel*' he thundered, as he advanced hastily to Ger- 
bavd, and laid bis hand upon his shoulder.— Page 160. 


l6o THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 

upon which were large drops of perspiration, then he 
sat down and emptied his glass after the exertion. 

All present burst into laughter. 

“Bursten, you are a second Mirabeau!” cried Doc- 
tor Russel. “I did not think that of you. If you 
have that speech printed, I will buy a hundred copies !” 

Speeches then became the order of the day. 

The baron rose and drank the health of their host- 
ess; he was followed by Gerhard. 

“Dear friends!” he began. “I have never been so 
happy as on this evening, and am really sorry that 
Betty was ever born. But that unfortunate circum- 
stance is mitigated somewhat by the fact that we 
celebrate this birthday oftener in the year, and I hope 
that you will all accept my invitation to those cele- 
brations.” 

A loud “bravo” interrupted him. 

“Frobel, you are a fine fellow!” cried Doctor Rus- 
sel. “We will all be there!” 

All eyes were fastened on Gerhard and no one 
noticed that the latter’s father entered the door softly. 

Frobel’s face turned pale as he saw the company, 
and his blood almost ceased flowing when he heard 
his son’s words. 

“I too will be there!” he thundered, as he advanced 
hastily to Gerhard and laid his hand upon his 
shoulder. 

With a start Gerhard cried: 

“Father!” as if a ghost were before him. 

Those present sprang up. 

“Yes, I too will be there!” repeated Frobel. “Or 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


161 


do you perhaps think such company is unfit for 
me?” 

The baron was insulted by those words. At Fro- 
bel’s sudden entrance, he too rose in surprise. 

“Who is the man who dares to force himself into 
our circle?” cried he, putting down his glass and star- 
ing at Frobel. 

Frobel heard the words; they inflamed his anger 
still more. 

“I will tell you!” cried he, stepping up to the 
baron. “I am the father whose son has fallen into 
bad company, and who has come to take him from 
the same.” 

The baron involuntarily drew back. 

“I would demand satisfaction of you, were you able 
to give it to me,” he replied, with a contemptuous 
shrug of the shoulders. “But with people of your 
degree one does not fight.” 

Frobel drew himself up. 

“Silence!” he exclaimed, in a loud and command- 
ing voice. “If I did not think it would soil my hands, 
I would give you the merited reply.” 

“Father!” cried Gerhard, forcing his way between 
them, in order to prevent any further conversation. 

“Back!” cried Frobel violently, pushing his son 
aside. “I will speak with you later!” 

“Frobel!” said the baron to Gerhard. “A family 
scene seems about to be enacted. I am surely super- 
fluous, — and I do not like them either.” 

He took his hat and with a haughty glance at the 
manufacturer, left the room. 


162 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


“Come with me at once!” said the latter, turning 
to his son and speaking in a commanding voice. 

The tone vexed Gerhard; he was no longer a child. 
He would have liked to return a violent reply, 
but he controlled himself and maintained silence. 

“Well,” continued Frobel, “you do not seem to 
have heard my words! I think it is high time that I 
should take you from this company.” 

“No, I will not go!” replied Gerhard defiantly. 

“You will not?” said Frobel. “Will you force me 
to exercise my authority here? You have paid for 
these apartments with my money, so they belong to 
me.” 

“They are this lady’s rooms,” said Gerhard, point- 
ing to Betty, who had flown to her brother’s side. 

The manufacturer cast a hasty and threatening 
glance at the girl and his bookkeeper. He had bitter 
words upon his tongue, but restrained them. 

“You will follow me!” said he resolutely. 

“Go — go!” whispered Hassel to Gerhard, who hesi- 
tated. 

“We will meet again to-morrow!” cried Gerhard to 
Betty, then he followed his father. 

When Frobel and his son had gone, Betty cast her- 
self into a chair, the other guests departed, and 
brother and sister were alone. 

Hassel paced the room in agitation, for he needed 
no longer to conceal the fact of how anxious he was. 
One glance which Frobel had cast upon him, told him 
what he had to expect. 

“Gerhard should not have gone with his father,” 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 163 

said Betty at length. “I expected him to be more 
brave and independent.” 

“What should he do?” said Hassel, without paus- 
ing in his walk. “Is he independent? He only lives 
upon his father’s pocket and on the debts he has made. 

I know Frobel; it was the highest sense to obey him, 
for when he is angry he has no control over him- 
self.” 

Betty looked anxiously at her brother, for his un- 
easiness struck her. 

“Edward, I fear that you will lose your position 
at Frobel’s, if he learns that you have led Gerhard 
into such frivolity.” 

The bookkeeper glanced at her mockingly. 

“You are afraid?” repeated he. “I can assure you 
that I will loose it!” 

“What will you do then?” continued Betty. 

Hassel replied evasively. 

“Did I not live before I had the position?” 

The thought troubled him very little; another fear 
oppressed him. His gay life, the cost of which Ger- 
hard had always borne, was at an end, and he could 
scarcely hope that his dishonesty would be longer 
concealed. If Frobel discovered it, could he not 
have him arrested? Involuntarily he started at the 
thought of the prison; then he sought to forget it. 
Matters had not gone so far yet ; might not his shrewd 
head devise some means of escape? 

“I am far more anxious about you,” he continued. 
“Gerhard will have to give you up, for I do not think 
he has sufficient strength of character to oppose his 


164 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


father’s wishes. Frobel will be still angrier when he 
learns what debts his son has made.” 

“I shall not grieve very much over Gerhard’s loss,” 
said Betty. 

“Be still!” interrupted Hassel angrily. “I do not 
want to hear such silly words! Is the life which Ger- 
hard provides for you of no value to you? Did you 
not always gladly accept his gifts? What will you do 
if Frobel has you put out of these apartments to- 
morrow?” 

“Gerhard rented them for me, and gave them to 
me,” said Betty, “I can not be forcibly ejected.” 

“You are a child, who does not know what is right 
and what wrong,” continued Hassel. “Gerhard has 
rented the rooms in his name, therefor^ they belong 
to him. If his father forces him to drive you out, 
you will have to go, or else he will call in the aid of 
the police.” 

“He will never do that, for he loves me!” 

“But his father will; you may consider yourself 
fortunate if his anger does not fall upon you.” 

“I am not afraid of it,” said Betty. 

Hassel did not seem to hear those word, for his 
anger had already taken another turn. 

“It is incomprehensible to me where Frobel could 
have learned that you lived here and that Gerhard 
rented these rooms for you,” said he. “Did you write 
to Gerhard? The letter might possibly have fallen 
into his father’s hands.” 

“I have never written to him. Why should I. He 
came to see me daily. Might not Frobel have heard 
through another that I live here?” 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 1 65 

“Through whom? Only our friends know it, and 
from them no one heard it.” 

“Might not Wenzel, who lives in the house, have 
told him?” 

“Who?” asked Hassel, raising his head, as if he had 
not heard the name. 

“Wenzel.” 

“You say he lives here?” 

“Yes.” 

“And you just tell me of it?” 

“I only discovered it a few days since, when I acci- 
dentally saw him standing at the window; his wife 
was with him.” 

“Does he know that you live here?” 

“I do not know; but I do not doubt it, for his wife 
is always at home, and probably knows all that is go- 
ing on.” 

“Then surely he told of it!” cried Hassel. “The 
fellow has thwarted my plans for the second time; 
let him beware if I meet him!” 

He drank one more glass of champagne and left 
the room. 

He entered a restaurant, there to spend the re- 
mainder of the evening and to dispel all care. 

The following morning Frobel repaired to his fac- 
tory early, took the books which Hassel had kept into 
his room and locked the door in order not to be dis- 
turbed. For hours he sat there; at length he found 
what he was in search of. 

Leaving the books open, he sprang up and hastened 
to the door to call Hassel. He had his hand upon 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


1 66 

the knob when he paused. He felt that at that mo- 
ment he was too excited to go through the scene he 
knew awaited him. He seated himself upon the sofa 
in order to gather all his strength. Finally he rose, 
opened the door and called his bookkeeper. 

With apparent composure Hassel entered. 

Bitterly, silently Frobel glanced for several seconds 
at the man who came into the room. That his fault 
was discovered he knew. In order to go through with 
what lay before him, he must summon all his strength 
to his aid. 

Frobel, too, essayed to maintain his composure. 

“You have not entered the receipt of five hundred 
marks in the books,” said he, “where is the money?” 

For a moment Hassel was silent; his lips moved; 
it was difficult for him to confess his guilt. 

“Do you deny that you have kept the money?” con- 
tinued Frobel with excitement. “Are you bold enough 
to tell me to my face that you did not do so, when I 
can prove it to you and when you cannot plead neg- 
lect? Dare you?” 

“I don’t deny my fault,” said Hassel in reply. 

“Ah!” exclaimed Frobel, surprised at the frank 
avowal. “You confess it?” 

“Yes.” 

“And you used the money for yourself!” v 
“I did.” 

“It is sufficient to deliver you into the hands of the 
law and it shall be done!” cried Frobel, whose com- 
posure and self-possession were disappearing. “I put 
faith in you and you abused it in the most .shameful 



“You have not entered the receipt of five hundred marks in the 
book,” said he, pointing to the book, "where is the money ?’*— Page 


166, 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


1 68 

manner. You have done more than that, you led my 
son astray. That I can and will not pardon; you 
shall learn how severe I can be; I will have you ar- 
rested at once! ,, 

He turned towards the bell. 

Hastily Hassel stepped in front of him. 

“Herr Frobel,” said he,- and his voice trembled with 
excitement, for he had not anticipated such rapid and 
prompt action, “I have something more to say to you 
before you have me arrested. I pray you, listen to 
me !” 

The manufacturer stood still. 

“What have you to say to me?” cried he. 

“I have acknowledged that I took the money and 
used it for myself,” continued Hassel. “You have the 
right to punish my crime, and yet I should like to ask 
you not to do so.” 

“You dare to ask me that?” interrupted Frobel 
angrily. “You hope for pity from me, you, who 
could not have treated me more shamefully if I had 
been your enemy? You can at least not count upon 
forbearance!” 

“And yet I think you will regret your determi- 
nation!” said Hassel. 

“Wait and see!” exclaimed Frobel, again seizing 
the bell-cord. 

“Then I will tell you this,” remarked Hassel, and 
about his mouth hovered a malicious smile, “that I 
have been through a great deal with your son which 
would not bear publicity, because it would bring dis- 
credit upon his and your name; I shall tell it all in 
court, for I care little for my name.” 


THE WORKINGMAN^ WIFE 


169 


Involuntarily Frobel started; his eyes rested upon 
the pale, dissipated features of the bookkeeper, who 
seemed to him like a demon. 

Hassel did not fail to perceive the impression which 
his words called forth. He took advantage of it. 

“Do you think I am not able to make your son’s 
stay in town an impossibility?” he continued. “You 
can prevent it, Herr Frobel; if you do not expose me, 
I will be silent,” said Hassel. 

Frobel underwent a severe struggle with himself. 
It was difficult for him to decide, but finally love for 
his son conquered. 

“How can I be certain that you will do so?” he 
cried. 

“I give you my word,” returned the bookkeeper. 

“I do not believe you; you deceived me too shame- 
fully.” 

“My own interest requires that I do so.” 

“Your interest ?” repeated the manufacturer. “What 
have you to lose? But I will not give you to the 
law; I will do so, however, when you break your 
word. The way lies open to me always, and the 
second time I will exercise no clemency. The proof 
of your guilt is in the book. Now go, go, for were I 
to see you longer I might regret my decision !” cried 
Frobel, pointing to the door. “One thing I will add: 
enter these rooms again, and I will have you ejected !” 

“I have nothing more to do here,” said Hassel, with 
a mocking smile. He was perfectly satisfied with that 
issue; for that he would lose his position, he had 
known from the beginning. 


170 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


He fetched his hat and cane in order to leave the 
factory. 

He met Wenzel. The sight of him drove the blood 
to Hassel’s face; he drew near him and cried with a 
threatening gesture: 

“We have a reckoning to settle. And we will 
settle it.” Then he passed on. 

In astonishment Wenzel looked after him, for he 
did not understand him, still less did he suspect 
whither he was going in such haste. 

Frobel remained in his room and sought to com- 
pose himself. At length he left the office and repaired 
to the hotel at which Halben was stopping. 

He found his son-in-law at home, and told him 
what had happened. 

“What shall you now do with Gerhard?” 

“I shall send him to a friend of mine at M — named 
Borger, who is an excellent man, and who will take 
him into his warehouse and his family. He has a 
son too, who, I hope, will have good influence upon 
Gerhard. I hope that when Gerhard forms other 
ties he will see that he would have ruined himself had 
he continued his mode of life.” 

Frobel seized his son-in-law’s hand. 

“I owe'you many thanks!” cried he. “Had you 
not opened my eyes, Gerhard would probably have 
been ruined; now I hope yet to save him and I thank 
you for it. I shall go to M— to-day with Gerhard; as 
soon as I return, I will write to Engeline. Let me 
know if you have obtained the position you have in 
prospect. Give this to Engeline!” 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


171 

He handed Halben a sealed envelope, which he 
divined contained bank-notes. 

In the friendliest manner the men parted, the men 
who had always been enemies. 


XV. 


The joy which Johanna had anticipated seemed to 
be fulfilled. When Wenzel saw for the first time the 
tiny being she had borne him, his eyes glowed with 
love. 

She could have had no more faithful nurse than 
her husband. He remained with her day and night. 

By the child’s birth Wenzel’s love seemed to have 
sent out new buds and blossoms, and Johanna had 
never before known it in such intensity. Indeed, 
she had only one wish, that her happiness might not 
be marred. 

Before Johanna had risen from her bed of sickness, 
Wenzel received a letter. Curiously he broke the 
seal; as he read it through, he frowned. Once he 
read it, then he tore it in pieces and threw them into 
the stove. 

Johanna waited a few minutes to see if he would 
tell her of its contents — he remained silent. 

“From whom is the letter, Karl?” she asked at 
length. 

Wenzel replied reluctantly: 

“From Doctor Brand.” 

“Are the contents unpleasant?” asked Johanna. 

“No. Brand urges me to come to a meeting this 
evening, as my presence is absolutely necessary. 

172 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


173 


Surely to-day and on the following evenings import- 
ant questions are to be treated of, and he knows he 
cannot very well spare my support,” he continued, 
“for the workingmen listen to me in preference to 
him, as I am one of their class.” 

“Go to the meeting, if you wish to,” said Johanna. 
“I already feel stronger and will be able to do with- 
out you to-night.” 

“I will remain with you,” replied Wenzel. “You 
could ask no sacrifice of me that would be too great; 
I have promised to nurse you, and I will keep my 
word.” 

Tenderly Johanna gazed at him. She extended 
her hand and drew him upon the bed. 

“Karl, do not be carried away by Brand’s ideas,” 
she implored. “What you are striving for, you will 
not attain, or only for a short time.” 

“We will attain it,” interrupted Wenzel. “Let only 
the majority of the workingmen be won over to our 
cause, then we will have the power!” 

“If you form an alliance, will not your opponents 
do the same?” asked Johanna. 

“They may do so; we will overcome all opposi- 
tion.” 

“And if you are overcome? Have you never 
thought that you would be punished the most severly 
because you belong to the leaders?” 

“Who can punish me?” cried Wenzel. “Are we 
not permitted to better our condition? Is there a law 
that forbids that?” 

“You are sacrificing yourself for others,” replied 


174 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


Johanna, “and if you ever should need their help, 
they would desert you.” 

The following day Wenzel again went to the meet- 
ing and a few days thereafter Brand called for him in 
person. Johanna was in the adjoining room with her 
child, as she was not very well. Therefore Wenzel 
refused the doctor’s invitation. 

“Do you wish to break your promise and leave us 
altogether?’’ 

“No, that is certainly not my intention.” 

“Then you are acting absurdly and against your 
own interest, for the confidence which you formerly 
inspired is beginning to waver.” 

“I will go with you!” cried Wenzel. “No one shall 
say I am lacking in interest.” 

He went to Johanna and told her that he was 
obliged to attend that meeting. 

“I will return as soon as possible,” he added. “I 
would not leave you to-day on any account were it 
not imperative that I should go.” 

He extended his hand to his wife. 

Johanna made no reply. She had overheard the 
doctor’s words and was firmly convinced that her 
husband allowed himself to be led altogether by him, 
for he understood how to work upon Wenzel’s sense 
of honor and upon his vanity. 

The latter repaired with Brand to the house in 
which the meeting was to take place. It was held 
in a small room in a cafe which the proprietor readily 
placed at their disposal, for he did a thriving busi- 
ness, as during the debates many glasses of beer were 
consumed. 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


175 


Wenzel and Brand heard talking and confusion be- 
fore they entered the hall. As they entered they 
were greeted with cheers. 

“Are you still sorry that you came?” whispered 
Brand to him. 

“No!” cried Wenzel, whose cheeks glowed with de- 
light. “From now on I shall again come regularly.” 

There were twenty present; they were seated at a 
long table. To his astonishment Wenzel saw Hassel 
seated at the lower end; he could scarcely believe 
that he saw aright. 

“How does Hassel happen to be here?” he asked 
Brand, drawing him aside. 

“He is a new member whom we have gained. He 
is enthusiastic over our cause and speaks well. Do 
you know him?” 

“Yes,” replied Wenzel. “I hardly think that his 
interest can have anything in common with ours.” 

“Why not?” asked Brand. 

At that moment Hassel approached Wenzel, apolo- 
gized and asked him to let bygones be bygones. 

Wenzel extended his hand to him in token of 
friendship. 

The conference began and was rather stormy. 

The beer had mounted to many brains and the 
most absurd views were put forth. 

Even Brand perceived that the excitement was so 
great that it threatened to carry him with it. His 
strength was not sufficient to combat it. 

“It is high time that you should come regularly,” 
said he to Wenzel. “If we do not hold together 


176 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


firmly, we shall lose our influence. We will be 
thrust aside and all our efforts will have been vain.” 

"I will come regularly,” promised Wenzel. 

His cheeks were flushed by excitement, his eyes 
sparkled, and at that moment he would have sacri- 
ficed everything to aid the cause. 

It was far on in the night when he and Brand re- 
turned home. 

Johanna seemed to be sleeping, and quietly he 
crept to bed. 

Evening after evening he spent at the club; all his 
thoughts were fixed upon the new aim, and he scarcely 
noticed Johanna’.s pale cheeks and the silent sadness 
which lay upon her features. 

Her entire world was the small home, her husband 
and child. To the latter she devoted all her care. 
Many tears did she shed in secret over her husband’s 
neglect, until at length she could no longer restrain 
herself. 

One evening when he returned from work and in a 
few moments prepared to set out again, she asked: 

“Are you going to leave me again?” 

“I must,” replied Karl curtly. 

“You must?” repeated Johanna vexed, at his reply. 
“Karl, I can not see why you must go; but this I 
know, that you are not doing the duty you owe your 
child and me. We are scarcely anything to you; 
and even when you are here your thoughts are far 
away.” 

Wenzel’s brows contracted. 

“I fail in my duty toward you?” he cried. “And I 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


177 


am only impelled by the desire to improve your con- 
dition. You reproach me because I am anxious 
about you.” 

“Karl, I am satisfied with our lot,” said Johanna 
calmly. “We have been so happy that I scarcely 
had a wish — why are we so no longer?” 

“Because you will not understand me!” cried Wen- 
zel. “I can and will not separate myself from my 
work which I began and have led towards completion ! 
If you considered my honor you would not ask it.” 

Johanna’s cheeks grew still paler; she fastened her 
large, dark eyes upon her husband who reproached 
her, who deserved it so little. 

“If I consider your honor?” she repeated slowly, 
and a pained, bitter expression hovered about her lips. 
“Take back those words! You cannot be more con- 
cerned for your honor than I am, for the husband’s 
honor is his wife’s as well. It is not the first time 
that you have reproached me for not being able and 
not wishing to understand your aim. I grasped it, 
but I fear that you will gain very little honor by it.” 

Wenzel, sprang up indignantly. 

“Be silent!” cried he violently. “I did not ex- 
pect to hear such words from your lips!” 

“Wherefore not? Have I not as your wife the first 
right to warn you?” 

“I need no warning and don’t want it!” 

“If you had not wished to accord me that right 
you should not have chosen me for your wife!” 

“Perhaps it would have been better had I not done 
so!” cried Wenzel without considering his words. 


i 7 8 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


Scarcely had he uttered them than he regretted 
them; but he was too angry to confess it. 

Johanna started; she strove for breath and com- 
posure. Was that her reward for her unspeakable 
and self-denying love ? Was that the end of her happi- 
ness? Every nerve in her body quivered; all that she 
had borne in silence for weeks and months, found a 
forcible utterance; her powers of self-control at that 
moment could not be governed. 

Trembling with agitation she advanced towards 
Wenzel. “You are not indissolubly bound to me!” 
cried she passionately. “The bond which binds us 
can be broken — you need to exercise no consideration, 
for I — I am satisfied!” 

She hastened into her bedroom and closed the 
door behind her. 

As if turned to stone, Wenzel stood there; he 
stared at the door which Johanna had locked; he 
passed his hand over his brow, as if he wished to dis- 
pel an unpleasant dream, then he seized his hat and 
rushed from the room and the house. 

Johanna sank beside her child’s bed and buried her 
face in the pillows. She heard Wenzel rush hastily 
down the stairs; she longed to rise and to call him 
to return, not to leave her thus, but her knees refused 
to do their duty. 

She sobbed aloud. 

She finally sought consolation, but could find none. 

Wenzel turned through the streets without know- 
ing whither he was going — it was, too, a matter of 
indifference to him. 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


179 


There was on that evening a meeting at which he 
should have been present — he did not think of it. He 
had forgotten the words he had spoken to Johanna, 
— only her reply echoed in his ears. 

He laughed bitterly. As he did so, a hand was 
laid upon his shoulder; almost terrified he turned, — 
Hassel stood behind him. No one else could have 
come more inopportunely. 

“I heard you laugh,— -you must be very merry,” 
said Hassel. 

“I am indeed,” returned Wenzel, for the book- 
keeper must not divine what was taking place within 
him. “Why should I not be? I was just thinking 
that the man is a fool who puts all his faith on one 
thing! He is the most sensible who neither believes 
nor confides!” 

“Have you been deceived?” asked Hassel. 

“I? How could you ask such a question? No — 
no! It was only a thought which arose in me, and I 
believe it is true.” 

For a few moments they walked side by side in 
silence. 

“Are you going to the meeting now?” asked Has- 
sel. 

“To the meeting?” repeated Wenzel, as if awaking 
from a dream. “Quite right, there is to be one this 
evening. Of course I am going; come, that we may 
not be late.” $ 

They reached the place of meeting. 

In order to drown his sorrow and to regain his 
composure, Wenzel quickly drank several glasses of 


l8o THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 

beer. A number of workingmen were already assem- 
bled in the hall. He was in despair, for he could not 
forget Johanna’s words. 

The session began; Brand opened it and, on Wen- 
zel’s motion, was chosen chairman. 

In a short time all was excitement. The question 
debated was to apply to Frobel for higher wages, and 
if he refused them to strike. 

Speeches were made by Hassel and Wenzel; the 
latter exhorted the men to adhere to their cause and 
promised them support. His words were greeted 
with applause. Many applauded, none dared to op- 
pose him. 

When the stormy meeting closed, Brand and 
Wenzel returned home together. Brand’s last words 
to him were: 

“Now, go to rest.” 

Where should he find rest? 

He dreaded the moment when he should again see 
his wife. 

He paused, leaned against the balusters and pressed 
his hand upon his brow. 

Footsteps on the stairs aroused him. A lady was 
ascending. Starting up, he was about to hurry on, 
when the lady stood still and raised her lantern. 

“Ah, Herr Wenzel, do we meet once more?” cried 
the lady. “You seem to have quite forgotten me, or 
do you not wish to know me?” 

The voice sounded familiar to Wenzel ; he turned 
aside the glaring lantern and looked into Betty’s 
laughing face. “Betty! How came you here?” he 
asked in surprise. 



- 

;f|i| 


Many applauded him. None dared to oppose him.— Page 180. 


lS2 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


“How came I here?* repeated the young girl. “I 
returned home late like you. I live here! ,, 

They reached Betty’s door. 

“You live here?” asked Wenzel, as if he had not 
understood the words. 

“Certainly. Did you not know that?” 

“No. Since when have you lived here?” 

“For months. And you really did not know it? 
Do you care so little about your fellow-lodgers?” 

“I had no suspicion of it.” 

“Then you must see my rooms,” continued Betty, 
and before Wenzel could excuse himself, she had 
opened the door, seized his hand and drew him into 
her room. 

Comfortable warmth and the perfume of flowers 
welcomed Wenzel. 

While Betty hastily lighted the gas, he glanced in 
surprise at the luxuriously furnished room. It was 
incomprehensible to him, how the girl could have 
obtained such fine apartments; he could scarcely 
understand how he had come there himself. 

Betty noticed his surprise. 

“Do you like it here?” she cried, laughing. “Well, 
come and sit down!” 

“I have known for some time that we lived neigh- 
bors,” she continued, chatting gayly; “I have seen 
you frequently, but in vain did I hope to meet you. 

I finally decided that you had quite forgotten me, or 
did not wish to meet me.” 

Wenzel was still perplexed; he seemed to be in a 
dream, and he was forced to gather all his strength 
together to assure himself that it was a reality. 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


I8 3 

“I have not forgotten you/’ he replied. “I did not 
even know that you lived here. Of late I have been 
at home very little.” 

“I know through my brother how enthusiastic you 
are in behalf of the workingmen,” interrupted Betty. 
“You are indeed their leader and an* 1 excellent one 
too. Now, let us drink a glass of wine together!” 

She rose to fetch the wine. 

Wenzel seized her arm to detain her. 

“You must not refuse me!” cried she. “It is a 
long time since we clinked glasses.” 

She placed the wine upon the table, poured it out 
and reseated herself beside Wenzel. 

The glasses clinked. 

Was it the girl’s hilarity or the wine which incited 
Wenzel? His brow grew smoother. Why could he 
not be merry as he had once been? 

He refilled the glasses himself and no longer 
thought of Johanna. 

“Wenzel!” cried Betty, whose cheeks were flushed 
and whose eyes sparkled. “Do you know that my 
brother once cherished the wish that I should become 
your wife! Ha, ha! Do not turn aside! I liked you; 
but you see I am not vexed because my brother’s 
wish was not fulfilled. You can nevertheless be my 
friend. I do not desire to win your love, but sim- 
ply to occasionally spend a merry hour in your com- 
pany. Will you come to me and be my friend?” 

“Yes!” cried Wenzel, grasping the girl’s hand. “I 
will be your friend.” Then he related to her his 
efforts and told her how near they were to success, — 



Then he related to her his efforts and told her how near they were 
to success — when suddenly the door of the room was burst hastily 
open.— Page 183. 


THE WORKINGMAN^ WIFE 


185 

when suddenly the door of the room was burst 
hastily open; Johanna entered the brightly-lighted 
room, but upon the threshold she paused. Upon the 
sofa she saw Wenzel seated beside Betty. Her lips 
moved; she waved her hand as if trying to grasp some 
invisible object — then with a faint cry she fell upon 
the floor. 

Wenzel and Betty sprang up. Wenzel cast him- 
self beside her, raised her head and anxiously called 
her name. Johanna did not hear him. Her face 
was pale; what grief was imprinted upon those rigid 
features! In terror he remarked it. 

“She is dying! She is dead!” he exclaimed in 
despair. 

Betty sought to comfort him; Johanna’s condition 
appealed to her kindness of heart. She fetched water 
and bathed the swooning woman’s brow and temples. 

Finally Johanna opened her eyes and raised herself 
slowly. At first she did not seem to know where she 
was; when she saw Betty, she covered her face with 
both hands. Suddenly, however, she remembered 
what had happened. 

She had been seated by her open window, looking 
out into the night, awaiting Wenzel’s return. She 
regretted the words she had uttered; before the sun 
again rose she would ask his pardon; he must forgive 
her if she sued at his feet, if she told him how ten- 
derly she loved him. 

She waited a short time, her anguish was intense. 

Scarcely knowing what she did, she put on a shawl 
and left the room. 


i86 


THE WORKINGMAN^ WIFE 


She was about to mount to Brand’s apartments, 
when she thought she heard Wenzel’s voice in Betty’s 
room. She listened; she must have been mistaken, 
for how could her husband be there? More plainly 
still she heard his voice; she could not mistake. 

Forgetting everything, — she pushed open the 
door — and entered; at the thought of what had hap- 
pened she shuddered. 

Wenzel clasped her in his arms; she did not seem 
aware of it, she tried to rise, but sank back powerless. 

“Compose yourself,” implored Wenzel. 

She did not hear him. She stared before her, her 
hands, which she had clasped convulsively, trembled. 
Finally she summoned all her strength and rose. She 
tottered toward the door. 

Wenzel supported her, — she seemed scarcely to 
notice it, but was not strong enough to refuse his aid. 

With difficulty she reached her apartments; she 
hastened to her child’s bedside and there she gave 
way. Her sorrow found vent in tears; with her face 
buried in her hands, she sobbed convulsively. 

In vain Wenzel sought to comfort her. He vowed 
that he loved her as tenderly as ever, he told her how 
he had chanced to be in Betty’s room; — she did not 
seem to hear him. 

Her tears finally ceased flowing! Her hands fell 
from her face; with difficulty she rose. Her eyes 
were cold and calm, her features rigid. 

“I pray you, leave me in peace,” said she. “The 
words I uttered this evening, I regretted; I wanted 
to ask your pardon, to tell you that I— that I spoke 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 1 87 

in excitement, that my heart did not feel them — now — 
now it is not necessary — you have verified them!” 

Notwithstanding her faltering voice, her words 
sounded firm and decisive. She dragged herself to 
her bed, and without undressing herself, cast herself 
upon it. 

Wenzel once more approached her and asked her 
forgiveness — she could not reply. 

He returned to the other room and closed the door 
behind him. 

For a long time he paced the room, struggling with 
himself and his feelings. Finally, fatigued, he cast 
himself upon the sofa and sleep had pity upon him. 


XVI. 

Early the next morning Hassel repaired to the 
manufacturer, Heerbach, who owned a factory similar 
to Frobel’s, but not quite so large. 

As soon as Heerbach saw the bookkeeper he led 
him into his room and carefully closed the door. 

Hassel informed him of the petition to be pre- 
sented to Frobel and of the workingmen’s intention 
to strike should their request for higher wages be re- 
fused. 

“Herr Heerbach,” said he, “in case the men quit 
work at Frobel’s, you have promised me three hun- 
dred marks; that will take place to-day — so I have 
a right to that sum.” 

“I will give it to you,” interrupted the manufact- 
urer impatiently. 

“Now, pray, listen to my proposition! Will you 
give me double the sum if everything happens as I 
say it will; if the workingmen’s petition be refused, 
and if they are finally compelled to go to work again 
on the old terms. If that does not come about, I 
will forfeit those three hundred marks.” 

The manufacturer glanced searchingly at him; he 
seemed to be considering. 

“Very well, I agree to it !” he then replied. “I rely 
IBS 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 189 

upon you to preserve the strictest silence,” he added, 
for he did not trust Hassel. 

The bookkeeper smiled. 

“My own interest requires that,” said he. “I 
would not dare to appear at the club were the men 
to find out about our understanding. I hope that 
satisfies you.” 

“Yes,” replied Heerbach. 

Hassel left him. He was contented with his bar- 
gain. Of one thing the shrewd merchant had not 
thought. Even when he had paid the six hundred 
marks, he would not be absolved. He would have 
to pay him to maintain silence, and Hassel regarded 
Heerbach as the source from which to obtain funds 
if he were embarrassed later on. 

When on that morning Johanna entered the room 
in which her husband still lay upon the sofa and slept, 
she was strikingly pale. She had through the night 
thought over what had happened. She wanted to 
believe Wenzel’s assurance that he was not guilty, 
then again she doubted him. Her faith in him was 
shaken. 

Wenzel awoke as she entered, started up and ad- 
vanced to Johanna with extended hand. 

“Do you still think me guilty?” he asked. 

Johanna’s eyes for a second met his, before she 
replied. 

“If I were convinced of your guilt, I should not be 
here !T she said gravely. “But one th.ing I can not 
conceal from you: I do not understand you any 
more, and only time can restore my confidence in 
you.” 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


190 

“Johanna, I was provoked at your words, and in- 
toxicated, when I unexpectedly met Betty upon the 
stairs. I did not know she lived in the house; she 
drew me into her room to show ft to me; I do not 
even know why I followed her; she was so gay that 
I forgot for a short time what had tormented me the 
whole evening,” 

“And you forgot me too!” interpolated Johanna. 

Wenzel did not acknowledge that, although he 
could not deny it. 

“Cease, cease, Karl,” interrupted Johanna. “Yes- 
terday was a hard and fatal day in our lives; each 
of us has something with which to reproach our- 
selves, but we can atone for it. Let us think of 
that! What we have lost, we must gain once more, 
or our happiness will be gone forever, and our lives 
will be sad.” 

Wenzel assured her that he would do all in his 
power. He wanted to add more, but his head was 
heavy and dull, and not without anxiety did he think 
of the task he had undertaken and which he had that 
morning to fulfill. He had not the courage to tell 
Johanna of it, for he knew that she would be anx- 
ious. 

Brand had promised to call for him; he sought to 
anticipate Johanna with a shake of the hand. 

Upon the stairs he met the little student. 

“Ah, coming already!” cried he. “You have prob- 
ably rested as little as I did. If I could only gg with 
you to Frobel to see his surprise! He will not like 
it. But do not allow yourself to be intimidated. 


THE WORKINGMAN^ WIFE 


191 


Remember that you are speaking in the name of the 
workingmen, that you do not stand before Frobel as 
his inferior, but as a free man. Upon the next hour 
much will depend!’’ 

They had reached the factory. A number of men 
there awaited Wenzel’s arrival; upon the faces of all 
was expectant excitement. 

“I will wait here until you have been to Frobel’s,” 
said Brand. “Let me know his answer at once. 
Pull yourself together; and above all be brave!” 

Wenzel entered the factory. As he did so, many 
of the men gathered around him; he was their leader 
and spokesman. 

“Is Herr Frobel in the factory?” he asked. 

“He is in his room,” was the reply. 

“Now go to your work,” continued Wenzel. “He 
must have noticed that you are not working, but are 
standing together and talking.” 

Accompanied by four of the men; he repaired to 
Frobel’s room. The manufacturer sat at his desk 
and turned aside when they entered. He tried to 
appear composed, but his eyes sparkled and the cor- 
ners of his mouth twitched. 

Wenzel was himself too agitated to perceive it. 

“What do you want?” asked Frobel curtly, for he 
was accustomed to speak in that tone to the men. 

Wenzel told him their errand. 

Frobel trembled with excitement, yet he controlled 
his feelings. 

“Who determined on this?” he asked. 

“Your workmen.” 


192 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


“All?” 

“Yes, without one exception. ” 

Frobel drew a deep breath slowly. 

“You say you will give me twenty-four hours for 
consideration?” asked he. 

“Yes,” replied Wenzel. 

“Ha, ha! You are very kind not to force me to 
reply at once!” cried Frobel, with a bitter laugh. His 
composure was disappearing more and more. “I will 
give it to you at once; listen, and bear my answer 
to those who sent you to me: I refuse to accede to 
their demands and will not raise their wages one 
penny! That is my reply!” 

The blood left Wenzel’s cheeks, for such a decisive 
and abrupt manner he had not expected. 

“You have twenty-four hours for consideration,” 
he repeated. 

“I need no time,” Frobel interrupted violently. 
“I am no boy who does not know what to do, and I 
shall not retract the answer I have given you. I do 
not prevent ypu from stopping work; you have your 
free will, although you say you are slaves. Tell this 
to your law-givers. Now leave the room, for you 
have nothing to do here!” 

When Wenzel reported their employer’s sharp 
reply to the men, they were angry. A few uttered 
threats; most of them seemed undecided what to do. 

Then Frobel entered the work-room. 

“Those who do not want to work for the wages 
they have been receiving, can leave the factory im- 
mediately,” said he in a loud, firm voice. “Whoso- 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


193 


ever has wages coming to him can get them from my 
cashier !” 

A loud murmur of discontent arose. 

“Silence!” exclaimed Frobel, stepping boldly into 
their midst. “You say, you will no longer be slaves; 
now I will not be yours. I am master here and will 
remain master. This is my house, and I will make 
use of my rights towards everyone who dares to op- 
pose me here. You wish to cease work — you shall 
have your wish !” 

“We have the right to require higher wages!” cried 
one workman. 

“Certainly!” replied Frobel. “I do not dispute the 
right; but so much the less will I allow my right to 
be disputed. I force no one to work for me!” 

“You can not get on without workmen!” said one. 

“That is my business and I allow no one to inter- 
fere in it!” retorted Frobel. “If I were to close my 
factory forever to-day none of you could hinder me, 
and I would ten times rather do so than suffer myself 
to be dictated to. You wish to cease work; then go, 
you have nothing to do here!” 

He returned to his room. 

Threats followed him. The anger was augmented 
by disappointment. Wenzel had difficulty in pre- 
venting some act of violence. 

In front of the factory they were joined by Brand, 
who bade them be courageous and eggpd them on to 
struggle for their rights. Hassel joined them as well 
at the nearest caf£, where the boldest hopes and the 
most improbable plans were formed. 


194 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


It was long past noon when Wenzel finally tore 
himself away and returned home. His mood was 
not joyful but depressed. 

Johanna had awaited him for dinner; she did not 
ask him why he came so late, but the excitement vis- 
ible in his eyes, attracted her attention. 

He told her what had happened. 

Johanna turned pale. 

“You need not fear,” said Wenzel. “You shall 
not suffer. Frobel will soon yield, then our position 
will be a still better one.” 

Johanna was not comforted by that assurance; 
what she had secretly feared had come to pass. She 
did not think of reproaching her husband; what would 
it have availed? 

She only replied: “Karl, you must know best if you 
have done right.” 

On the evening of the same day another meeting 
was held, on which further steps were decided upon, 
and the division of the money for their support was 
divided. The sum in hand was only sufficient for a 
few days, and nothing could be expected from other 
societies; but it was resolved to wait resolutely and 
not to flinch. 

A committee was appointed to work in the interest 
of the cause. Wenzel was at its head, together with 
eight other men, among them Brand and Hassel. 

Days followed on which Wenzel was not at home 
except to sleep. The funds had been exhausted and 
want came only too soon. 

The needy turned to the committee, before all to 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


195 


Wenzel who was their leader; they required help of 
him. 

“Help us, for you promised us help!” cried several. 

Wenzel did not reply. It grieved him that he 
could not help them, that the promises he had made 
had proven vain. Very much depressed he went 
home; there at least he heard no reproaches. Jo- 
hanna greeted him as usual. Gently she asked him 
for money that she might buy bread and milk for her 
child ! 

“Money!” he replied, and laughed bitterly. 

There where he had hoped to find rest, the same 
request was made; even to his door want had come. 
He had no more money — his savings were gone. 
He could not confess that to Johanna, but a feeling 
of despair possessed him. 

“You shall have money,” cried he, turning to leave 
the room. 

“Karl, where are you going?” asked Johanna, de- 
taining him, for his agitation had not escaped her. 

He could not tell her the truth. 

“I loaned a friend money,” replied he. “I will go 
to him, because I know lean have it back any time.” 

He left the room. 

Johanna noticed that half-pensively he felt for his 
watch, as if to convince himself that he still had it — 
a dread suspicion arose in her. Had it come to this: 
that he must sell his watch? 

Anxiously she awaited his return. 

He came back shortly and gave her a few dollars. 
“There!” said he. “You will not need more than 
this just now,” 


ig6 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


Involuntarily Johanna’s eyes sought his watch; she 
did not see it. The blood flowed from her heart and 
for a moment she strove for composure. 

“Karl — Karl — you have sold your watch!” cried 
she then. 

Wenzel turned and walked to the window. It 
would have been a great relief if he could have con- 
fided all that oppressed him to his wife. Once he 
would have done so, and she had then taken an in- 
terest in his every joy and care. The time was over. 
Was it his or her fault that the confidence was lack- 
ing? He could not reproach Johanna. 

“Yes, I sold it because I did not find the friend at 
home and did not wish to leave you without money,” 
the replied. “I can get it any day, and moreover, I 
do not now need a watch,” he added with a bitter 
smile. 

Johanna was silent. With difficulty she repressed 
the tears which entered her eyes. 

Again several days passed, and the workingmen’s 
position became still harder. 

In order to hide the true state of affairs, Wenzel had 
already sold various objects which had formerly been 
given to him; but he could not succeed in deceiving 
his wife; she had anticipated that it would come to 
that, although she did not think he could be so ob- 
stinate against better conviction. 

Gladly she practiced every economy. What mat- 
tered it that she only ate a piece of bread many a 
day? It hurt her that Wenzel grew more reserved 
daily. Again she sat alone in the little room; the 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


197 


child lay beside her in its bed and slept, when she 
heard steps upon the stairs and loud voices. She 
listened. They were the voices of women, and that 
comforted her, for she knew very few women and ex- 
pected no visitors. Therefore she remained quietly 
seated. 

Without rapping, the door was hastily opened and 
several poorly-dressed women, carrying two children 
on their arms, hurried into the room. The coarse, 
excited features of those who entered terrified Jo- 
hanna; she rose and advanced toward them. 

“Where is your husband, where is Wenzel?” cried 
one of the women, still a young person, who had a 
child on one arm, pressing forward. Her voice was 
rough; her reddened face betrayed that she was un- 
der the influence of liquor; in her large, protruding 
eyes was an impudent look. 

“He is not at home,” replied Johanna. 

“Of course,” continued the woman in a loud, mock- 
ing voice. “He is probably sitting with the others 
in a tavern; he will spend his last penny with them 
and thinks nothing of his wife and child! He is the 
leader and has led all astray.” 

The blood left Johanna’s cheeks. 

“What do you want with my husband?” she asked 
in a trembling voice. 

“What do we want?” repeated the woman, with 
mocking laughter, as she drew nearer Johanna. 
“Bread, bread and money! He influenced our hus- 
bands to quit work, by turning their heads and prom- 
ising them higher wages. Ha, ha! He led them on. 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


198 

Now he is carousing with them. They do not care 
if their wives starve. My husband always comes 
home drunk, and if „I ask for money or bread, he 
strikes me. He talks nonsense about his word of 
honor which he has pledged — bah! If he were hon- 
orable, he would not let his wife and child starve! 
But he is mistaken in me if he thinks that I will bear 
this longer in patience. My child cries and wants 
bread, and I can give it none because I have none. 
Your husband has misled ours, we now demand bread 
of him; he must give us bread!” 

“Our husbands are the same, — he has misled them 
all, we demand bread of him!” cried the others in 
confusion. 

Johanna’s face grew more and more rigid. Was 
there not, alas, too much truth in the woman’s words? 
Had he not ignored her warning, and was she any 
better off than those women? Did she not suffer 
too? 

She summoned all her strength to her aid. 

“I will tell my husband when he comes home,” she 
replied calmly. “He will help you if it lies in his 
power.” 

“Ha, ha! If it lies in his power!” repeated the 
woman scornfully. “He has no other power than 
that of leading our husbands astray. He will help 
us? With what? Surely, you are comfortable 
enough here! See” — she turned to her companions, 
“see how nicely he is fixed who has misled our men! 
Want has not entered here! Ha, ha! She will tell 
her husband that he may laugh at us! She hopes to 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


199 


rid herself of us with those words! But before I will 
starve with my child, I would rather go to prison! 
Give us bread— bread !” 

Johanna trembled; had she had money or bread, 
she would gladly have given it up; did not hunger 
stare at her from the eyes and sunken cheeks of the 
child which the woman carried upon her arm? She 
could not tell them that she herself had already 
wanted bread. 

“My husband will help you,” she assured them 
once more, 

“When? When?” exclaimed the half-intoxicated 
woman. “Perhaps when we are starved! I want 
bread now! Will you wait?” she asked, turning to 
the others. “Will you be put off by a promise? Can 
you satisfy your children with that? No, no!” cried 
the woman, pressing nearer Johanna. 

“I have already lost two children, and my third, 
my last will be carried to the cemetery if I do not 
care for it better!” cried a pale, emaciated person, 
holding a sickly child above the heads of the others. 
“The doctor has prescribed meat and strong soups 
for her and I can not even give her a piece of bread ! 
Cry, cry, that all may hear that you are starving!” 
she said to the child. “Cry for bread, bread! You 
have had nothing to eat to-day!” 

The child, a girl of about three years of age, began 
to whimper. 

“Do you hear that?” continued the woman vio- 
lently, advancing toward Johanna. “You do not seem 
to have ever heard such tones! The child is crying 
because she is starving; give us bread, bread!” 


200 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


Fearfully Johanna stepped to her babe’s cradle in 
order to protect it. 

“I have no bread,” said Johanna, almost in a whis- 
per. 

“Ha, ha! Do you hear?” cried the virago, irritating 
her companions still more. “She says she has no 
bread! Do you see poverty here? Give us money 
then!” 

“I have none!” said Johanna in terror. 

“She lies! She has no pity upon us and wants to 
send us away! She is no better than her husband! 
But I will not be put off; does she need this fine 
cover on her table?” 

“No, no,” cried the rest. 

“Then I will take it!” cried the woman with the 
child, as she tore the cover from the table. 

“That is right,” cried the others, laughing. 

They approached and took what they could find. 

Johanna stood there motionlessly. She had not 
the strength to put forth her arm to hinder them. 

Like Furies the excited women surrounded her. 

“How comfortably her child sleeps!” cried their 
leader, extending her hand towards the tiny bed. 

In affright the young mother cast herself before 
her. 

“Spare my child !” she besought, clasping her hands. 

“Ha, ha! Do you think our children are not cold?” 
cried the woman, pushing Johanna aside. “Shall we 
starve and freeze both ?” 

In a semi-swoon Johanna sank beside her child’s 
bed and spread both arms over it to protect it. She 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


201 


scarcely heeded that the shawl which she wore over 
her shoulders was torn off, that the women took with 
them what they pleased. It all seemed to her like 
a horrible dream. She heard mocking laughter, and 
curses hurled at both her and her husband, but the 
voices seemed to come from a distance. 

At last all was quiet — the angry women had left 
the room. 

For some time she kneeled there half-unconscious, 
then her child’s cries awoke her. She started up and 
fell back, as she cast a glance into the half-empty 
room. 

She took up the baby and carried it to her bed, upon 
which she fell unconscious. She remained there until 
Wenzel returned home. 

In amazement he looked around the room. 

“What has happened?” he exclaimed. 

Johanna rose slowly and told him what had taken 
place. 

His eyes gleamed passionately, angrily. 

“They shall answer for that!” cried he. “What 
impertinence! Is it not enough that I have to com- 
bat the unreasonableness and rudeness of the men, 
their wives fall upon and despoil you! Do you know 
them ?” 

“No, I have never seen them,” replied Johanna. 

“Because everything does not go as they wish, the 
men blame me,” continued Wenzel in excitement. 
“Is it in my power to bend Frobel’s will? Can I 
force him to yield? As long as they hoped to win 
they supported me; now that they have to wait, they 


202 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


lose courage! But they shall wait; I will compel 
them to keep their word!” 

“Will you gain anything by it?” asked Johanna. 

Wenzel was silent. 

“Karl, it is not yet too late to turn back,” con- 
tinued Johanna. “Go to Frobel, he will give you 
work under the old conditions.” 

“No — no !” interrupted Wenzel, violently. “That 
would be the last step I would take, for by it I would 
derogate from my honor and render myself a laugh- 
ing-stock! Do not speak of it, I will not hear of it — • 
not even from you! The angry vixens have fright- 
ened you; the law shall prosecute them!” 

“No, ! Karl!” besought Johanna. “Ido not judge 
them so severely. What shall they do if hunger 
gnaws at their vitals and their husbands do not help 
them? Can you punish a mother who is desperate 
because her child is starving? Blame the man who 
has brought her to it.” 

Wenzel turned away. Those words applied to 
him as well and he could make no reply. 

At the same time Hassel entered the house in order 
to visit his sister, whom he had not seen for several 
days. His eyes beamed, for a hope which he had 
given up forever, had been reawakened. Gerhard 
had written him and besought him to induce his sis- 
ter to follow him to the town in which he lived. 

That message he was about to deliver and he did 
not doubt that Betty too would be pleased, for Ger- 
hard’s letter was prompted by genuine affection. 

He reached his sister’s door and found it locked. 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


203 


Impatiently he knocked and rang. No one opened. 
All was still within. 

He sought the landlord in order to obtain news of 
her. 

“She has gone away,” replied the man in answer 
to his question. 

“Gone away?” repeated Hassel in surprise. 
“When?” 

“Yesterday morning.” 

“Where to?” 

“That I do not know,” was the reply. “The young 
lady gave me the key of her room that I might take 
care of it until her return.” 

“When will she leiurn?” 

“I do not know, but I do not think it will be very 
soon, because she took a great deal of luggage with 
her and sent her maid home.” 

Hassel’ s astonishment increased. 

“It is incomprehensible to me,” he cried. “Did 
she go alone?” 

“Yes.” 

Involuntarily Hassel thought of Gerhard. Had he 
written to Betty and asked her to come to him? 
Then he thought, what reason would Betty have had 
to go away without his knowledge? 

“Did you say you had the key to the room,” he 
asked, again turning to the landlord. 

“I did.” 

“Pray then open it for me! My sister did not tell 
me of her intended journey— perhaps she has left a 
note for me.” 


204 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


The landlord complied with his request. 

When Hassel entered his sister’s room, he paused 
in astonishment. Disorder prevailed. The drawers 
of the commode and secretary were open and empty; 
besides the half-withered flowers upon the table he 
did not see one object which belonged to Betty. It 
was impossible that she could have taken all that 
only for a journey; the state of the room proved to 
him that she had gone never to return. 

He entered the bed-chamber — the same disorder 
there; he looked through the papers upon the floor, 
in the hope of finding a letter which would explain 
all — but iii vain. 

The landlord was not less surprised. 

Hassel sought to conceal his true feelings from the 
man and said to him: 

“She will probably send me some word to-day and 
I will let you know at once,” said he. “Lock the 
rooms carefully and let no one in ! At any rate you 
will lose nothing, for the rent is paid in advance.” 

Hassel left the house and slowly walked along the 
street. The whole affair was as yet a mystery to 
him. 

He met Wenzel — perhaps he could give him some 
explanation. He approached and questioned him, 
but he knew less than the landlord. 

He proceeded on his way. To whom should he 
turn for information? He recalled the fact that Betty 
loved the baron; but Gersdorffen had never expressed 
any affection for her. Still he concluded to seek him 
out. 


THE WORKINGMAN r S WIFE 


205 

Gersdorffen’s apartments too he found closed, and 
the landlord tol<i him he had gone away. 

“When?” asked Hassel. 

“Yesterday morning.” 

Angrily the bookkeeper stamped his foot; it was 
evident that the baron and Betty had deceived him. 

“Do you know where he has gone?” 

“No.” 

“Nor to which station he drove.” 

“Nor to that either.” 

“Did he say when he would return?” 

“No, he only said that he would probably be away 
some time.” 

“Ha, ha! Until he has grown tired of the girl!” 
cried Hassel with a bitter laugh. “Then he will prob- 
ably leave her and pay no more attention to her! 
So be it; why has she so foolishly thwarted my 
plans?” 

He repaired to a caf£ in a mood in which he was 
vexed with the entire world. 


XV. 


On the following morning a meeting of the work- 
ingmen took place; it was not very fully attended, 
but it was stormy nevertheless. 

At Hassel’s instigation the desperate men resolved 
to brave all and to repair to the factory in a body to 
prevent the return of those of their party who had 
seceded, and who had gone home to their noon-day 
meal. 

“Wenzel shall lead us!” cried the men, dragging 
him with them. 

At the gate they posted themselves. 

The hour for work to recommence chimed; sev- 
eral men came down the street. 

“There come the deserters!” cried some. “Stop 
them— do not let them pass.” 

“No one has the right to detain us!” replied the 
men. “We have no bread to eat, therefore we must 
work.” 

“Wenzel, refuse to let them enter! You, as our 
leader, have the right to do so,” cried a voice. 

In excitement Wenzel advanced. 

“Back! ’’cried he aloud. “You broke your word 
pledged to us.” 

“First of all let those fulfill their word who prom- 
ised us higher wages,” replied one of the men. 

20C 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


207 


“You shall have higher wages, but you must wait,” 
continued Wenzel. “You are traitors to our cause 
and you alone will bear the guilt if it fails!” 

A few seemed to hesitate. 

v “Come,” cried an old man to them, as he ap- 
proached the gate. “I do not care to be made a fool 
of the second time.” 

“Back!” cried Wenzel, barring the way. 

“No one can command me!” replied the old man. 

“I can!” continued Wenzel, trying to push him 
forcibly back. 

The old man’s comrade hastened to his aid, but 
Wenzel thrust them both aside. 

A wild tumult was about to arise when the gate 
was opened from within and several officers appeared. 

Frobel had sent for them, and they had reached the 
court by another door. 

They saw Wenzel push the workmen forcibly from 
the gate, and they seized him in order to arrest him. 
The blood left his cheeks. 

“I will not allow you to arrest me!” cried he, free- 
ing himself from the policeman’s detaining hand. 

Again they seized him. 

“Will you desert me now?” called he to his com- 
panions. 

The majority of them drew back in terror; only the 
little scholar and three workmen tried to help him — 
they too were arrested. Hassel had disappeared at 
the first and from the windows of a neighboring res- 
taurant had watched for the result of the undertaking 
to which he had urged the men. 


208 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


With a suppressed murmur the men saw their com- 
rades and their leader led away; then they dispersed 
in order not to meet with a similar fate. 

With evident sorrow Wenzel walked away. He 
was thinking of his unfortunate wife who was left 
alone without the means wherewith to support her- 
self. 

Brand walked beside him and sought to inspire him 
with courage. 

“Do not fear,” said he. “We will be examined and 
then released, for they will be afraid that the work- 
men will free us by force. What can they do to us? 
Nothing!” . 

Wenzel did not reply; he was depressed and with- 
out the least ray of hope. 

They were led before the chief of the police and 
examined, then they were put in cells. 

When Wenzel reached the narrow cell and the door 
was locked behind him, he sank upon the wooden 
stool and buried his face in both hands. He was 
thinking of Johanna. What would she do without 
him? Why had he not listened to her warnings? 
She was now sitting alone in her tiny room, await- 
ing his return; no one would tell her of what had 
happened. 

In agitation he sprang up and with all his strength 
knocked at the door, so that it resounded in the long 
corridor out of which the cells opened. 

The guard came to his door and bade him cease 
knocking. 

“Send to my wife and tell her that I am here !” cried 
Wenzel. 



• X will not allow you to arrest me!” cried he, freeing himself from 
the policeman’s detaining hand.— Page 207. 



210 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIRE 


“What do I care for your wife?” replied the guard 
impatiently. “If you do not keep still, I will inform 
the inspector and you will be punished!” 

Wenzel sank upon the stool again. 

Johanna sat at home and awaited her husband. 
Dinner-time passed and he did not come. It was 
not the first time she had awaited him in vain; she 
therefore sought to be patient, although oppressed by 
an indescribable unrest. 

Night came and hour after hour dragged slowly 
by. Had Wenzel forgotten her altogether? More 
than once she rose, opened the window and looked 
out on the dark court listening for his footsteps. 

The lights in the neighboring houses were extin- 
guished, one after another; the people were going to 
rest, only she was awake. She sat there pensively 
until the clock chimed the midnight hour. Almost 
terrified she sprang up, hastened again to the window 
and listened a long time in vain Then she seated 
herself by her child’s bed-side. She sat there motion- 
lessly, living over her-entire life. 

At length, weary and exhausted, her eyes finally 
closed and sleep overcame her. 

When her child’s cries awoke her it was broad 
daylight, and in terror she. started up. Her first 
glance sought Wenzel. She did not see him. Had 
he perhaps gone away again? She could not believe 
so, for she slept lightly and would have heard him 
return home. He had not come; something must 
have happened to him. Hastily she nursed her child, 
then wrapped it up warmly and with it left the room. 


THE WORKINGMAN^ WIFE 


21 1 


Perhaps Wenzel had come home very late and had 
gone to Brand’s room in order not to disturb her. 

With feverish haste she ascended the stairs. 

On reaching Brand’s room she found the door 
locked. She knocked, but all was still within. 

Slowly she again descended the stairs. As she 
crossed the court she heard the landlord talking to 
another man by an open window. 

“It is as I say,” said he, not perceiving her. “The 
uneasy heads will now be quiet for a while. Frobel, 
with whom I am acquainted, told me yesterday at 
the inn that part of the men returned to him, the 
rest sought to prevent their entrance into the factory. 
Wenzel was foremost, he was their leader. Frobel 
sent hastily for the police and they arrested the dis- 
turbers of the peace. Wenzel and Brand indeed tried 
to resist the police, but the result was bad for them!” 

Johanna stood there as if turned to stone. Her 
lips were half. parted as if about to call for help; she 
was unable to utter a sound. 

“Unfortunately Wenzel and Erand live in my 
house,” continued the man. “But I can not keep 
such people beneath my roof any longer; they will 
surely be imprisoned several months. I wish they 
would keep them years, for such people can not be 
punished severely enough; they have lost their love 
of work, they want to earn big wages and do noth- 
ing!” 

Not a word escaped Johanna; she reached out her 
hand towards the wall in order to steady herself, then 
with a loud cry she fainted. 


212 


THE WORKINGMAN^ WIFE 


When she recovered consciousness, she lay in her 
bedroom upon her bed; compasssionate hands had 
brought her thither. Two women who lived in the 
same house, but whose names she scarcely knew, 
were with her. 

Slowly she rose. What had occurred seemed to 
her like a horrible dream and with difficulty could she 
realize it. 

“Is it true that my husband has been arrested?” 
she asked the women, who replied in the affirmative. 

Johanna buried her face in both hands; her sorrow 
was too great to find relief in tears. 

“He is the most to blame, for he incited the others,” 
said one of the women, as if those words would com- 
fort the wretched wife. “If it had continued, all the 
men would have lost their liking for work; but now 
we hope it will be better, for the guilty will be kept 
in jail a while, and that is right. When the men 
do not work, we women suffer the most.” 

Johanna’s hands fell from her face. 

“Thank you for your kindness; but now please 
leave me to myself,” said she, although she felt so 
weak that she could scarcely raise her hand. 

“You are still too weak,” expostulated the woman. 
“Do not take your husband’s fate too much to heart, 
for he deserves it, and men are mot worth anything! 
If my husband did not have to work, I should really 
not mind his being imprisoned a few months. He 
would then certainly find out that he has it much 
better at home and would break himself of the habit 
of going to the tavern every evening. Before we 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


213 


were married he was too kind for anything, and now 
he grudges me every penny; therefore, I say, men 
are of no account and if they were not a necessary 
evil, it would be better there were none.” 

“Pray, leave me!” repeated Johanna. “I feel 
stronger.” 

She summoned all her strength and sat up. It 
was impossible for her to listen longer to such words, 
for she would have suffered anything rather than 
that a word of complaint against her husband to 
others should have passed her lips. 

When the women were gone, she sank beside her 
child and sobbed passionately. 

A few hours later, her child upon her arm she, pro- 
ceeded to the jail within which Wenzel was im- 
prisoned. Rudely the porter asked her what she 
wanted. 

She told him she wished to see her husband. 

“You can’t!” was the short reply. 

“My husband has not been sentenced; he was only 
arrested yesterday,” besought Johanna. 

“So much the less reason why you should not see 
him, — I can let no one in.” 

Johanna asked to whom she should apply for per- 
mission to visit her husband. 

“I do not know!” rudely cried the man, shutting 
the door. 

Hesitatingly the unhappy woman paused — she 
knew of none to whom to turn for advice. How in- 
finitely she loved W T enzel she now discovered as she 
stood before the gray, gloomy building, behind whose 


214 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


walls he sat a prisoner. She could not restrain her 
tears. 

She retraced her steps. 

On her way she met several officers; she did not 
notice them. One of them stepped toward her —it 
was Lieutenant Rudolph von Brankow. She had 
not seen him for a long time. 

‘‘Johanna — is it possible— you — you?” cried he. 

The unhappy girl tried to evade him; he laid his 
hand upon her arm. 

“Johanna, is this your child?” he asked. “How 
do you live? Where? I have not seen you for such 
an age and yet I have thought of you so often ! I 
have yearned for you, for I could not forget your 
lovely eyes!” 

Johanna trembled; then she collected herself and 
looked up. Firmly, calmly and gravely she glanced 
at him. Upon her pallid face was graven such intense 
sorrow, her glance was so severe, that Brankow 
voluntarily took his hand from her arm. Half un- 
consciously he was awed by the majesty of womanly 
dignity. 

“You have been weeping,” said he in confusion, 
“are yOu unhappy?” 

Johanna turned her head away and walked on in 
silence. Brankow dared not follow her. When he 
was no longer near her, she hastened away like a 
fugitive in order to reach the safe shelter of her small 
apartments. 


XVIII. 


The following morning nearly all the men resumed 
work in Frobel’s factory, for their leader was in jail, 
and Hassel had not put in an appearance. 

When the latter learned of the result of the strike, 
he repaired at once, Heerbach to receive his reward. 
When it was paid him, Heerbach informed him that 
he need expect nothing further. 

“You seem to place little value upon my silence,” 
said Hassel with a smile. 

“I do value it, but not so much that I would pay 
you more.” 

“You will change your mind,” said Hassel with a 
mocking smile. 

With these words he left the manufacturer’s room 

He was about to enter a public-house, when he met 
a police commissioner with whom he was acquainted, 
who detained him. 

“I should like to speak with you only a few mo- 
ments,” said the officer. 

“I am at your service as long as you wish,” replied 
Hassel, pleasantly. 

“Where is your sister?” asked the man. 

With apparent surprise Hassel looked at his in- 
terrogator; he seemed to wish to divine why he 
asked that question. 


215 


2l6 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


“I do not know,” he then replied. 

“You will not take it amiss if I do not trust your 
assurance,” continued the commissioner. “I know 
that your sister was dependent upon your will, con- 
sequently she will not have left town without your 
knowledge.” 

“If she has nevertheless done so?” interrupted Has- 
sel. “She has gone away unknown to me and I 
know not whither.” 

“Do you know where Baron von Gersdorffen is?” 

“No?” 

“You were with him a great deal?” 

“I was; yet I do not know where he is at present.” 

“But you know that he is no longer in town.” 

“Yes.” 

“How do you know it?” 

“Because I went to his rooms and heard from his 
landlord that he had gone away.” 

“He left the city when your sister did — do you not 
know that?” 

“No; but I suspected or rather feared it.” 

“Why did you fear it?” asked the commissioner. 

Hassel hesitated to reply. 

“Because I do not favor an intimacy between him 
and my sister,” said he at length. 

“Why not? You can be frank with me, for I think 
I know the baron as well as you, perhaps better — at 
least as far as his past is concerned.” 

Hassel shrugged his shoulders indifferently. 

“Now allow me to ask a question: why are you 
inquiring for my sister?” 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


217 


The commissioner hesitated before he replied: 

“I will tell you. A short time since a young man 
appeared in Frankfurt accompanied by a lady. Both 
seemed very aristocratic; they succeeded in calling 
to their house young men from the best families and 
then they played cards for high stakes. Suspicions 
well-founded pointed to the fact that he was dishon- 
est and that the lady he represented to be his wife, 
was aiding him; but before the police reached him, 
he left. The personal descriptions of the gentleman 
and lady accord exactly with those of the baron and 
your sister.” 

Hassel’s face had turned still paler; he tried to 
overcome the uneasiness which possessed him. 

“It was not my sister for she does not cheat at 
cards,” cried he. “She has never done anything 
wrong, you have therefore no right to cast such sus- 
picions upon her!” 

The commissioner maintained his composure. 

“The police have that right,” he replied. “If my 
suspicion is correct, I hope it will soon be proven.” 

He left the bookkeeper, who repaired to his public- 
house. 

Without delay he hastened to the nearest station 
and commissioned a policeman in civil dress to watch 
Hassel closely and to inform him at once if the latter 
mailed a letter; for he hoped to gain thereby a clew 
to the whereabouts of Hassel’s sister and the baron. 

* * * * * * 

Johanna had had a bitter experience. She was ill 
and felt so miserable that she could scarcely stand, 


2l8 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


and yet she had to do so for her child’s sake. She 
had no one to whom she could turn and of the 
women who lived in the same house she could ask 
no favor, for they would have overwhelmed her with 
reproaches about her husband. 

She thought of Ina; she knew her faithful friend- 
ship, she had her pen already in her hand to summon 
her with a few words, when her hand sank to her side. 
Could she send for her friend to come to her in her 
misery? 

She had a strong character, but her courage began 
to fail her. Then her thoughts turned to Wenzel. 
Was he not in a worse position than she was? He 
sat in his cell alone and forsaken. She would go 
herself to the judge and tell him that he had been 
led astray and had in reality only striven for the good 
of the workingman. 

What pleasure lay in the thought that Wenzel 
would owe his freedom to her! Would not that bind 
him still more firmly to her? 

Finally, after several days, she felt strong enough 
to venture upon the difficult task. With her child 
upon her arm she repaired to the court. 

In the building she at length discovered which 
judge was to conduct the case. She asked the ap- 
paritor to announce her; instead, he conducted her 
into an ante-room, where she seated herself and 
awaited her turn. 

For some time she waited patiently; the apparitor 
seemed to be unaware of her existence. When she 
approached him, he said: “Ah, I had entirely for- 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


219 


gotten you. It is top late to day, the judge is about 
to go home.” 

“If I could only see him for a few moments,” im- 
plored Johanna. 

“It can not be,” replied the man. “Come again 
to-morrow morning and I will bear you in mind. 
There is, moreover, no hurry, for if you wish to in- 
tercede for your husband there will be time enough 
in eight days, he will not be tried so quickly. But 
it will be of no avail!” 

Tears entered Johanna’s eyes. The man did not 
know what an effort it had cost her to come. Would 
she be able to return the following morning? 

At that moment the j udge left the court-room. He 
was an elderly man, with gray hair and a bent form. 
On seeing Johanna’s pale face and the tears in her 
eyes, he paused. 

“What does the lady want?” he asked the servant. 

“She desires to speak with you; I have already 
told her to come back to-morrow,” replied the ap- 
paritor. 

Once more the judge glanced at the young woman’s 
pale, sorrowful face. 

“Come,” said he then, re-entering the room. 

Johanna followed him with throbbing heart; the 
man’s face inspired her with confidence, for it spoke 
of gentleness and kindliness. 

“Take a seat,” said he, observing Johanna’s con- 
dition, “and then tell me what you want.” 

Johanna told him her name and said that she had 
come to intercede for her husband. 


220 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


“I know he has done wrong,” she added, “but he 
meant to do right. He was led astray by others and 
used as a tool. Up to that time we lived peacefully — 
it was his greatest happiness to be at home evenings 
and that happiness he sacrificed.” 

“I believe you,” replied the official calmly and not 
without sympathy, “but I cannot help you, for I do 
not pronounce sentence upon him,” 

“He will not bear it if he is sentenced!” she ex- 
claimed, with difficulty restraining her tears. 

“He will bear it,” assured the justice consolingly. 
“I am even convinced that the punishment will have 
a beneficial effect upon his life, for it will give him 
time to think over how absurdly he has acted. It 
will bring him back to reason.” 

“If I could only see my husband for a few min- 
utes!” implored Johanna. 

The justice seemed undecided. Full of tender 
compassion, his eyes rested upon the woman’s pale 
but lovely face. 

“I could grant your request,” said he then, “but I 
think I am doing you and your husband a service by 
refusing to do so. You will gain nothing by it, you 
will only be mutually agitated and heighten your 
grief; believe me, it is better not to see him.” 

Johanna stood silently by, staring before her. 

“You must be in need, for your husband has earned 
nothing for weeks,” continued the justice. “Tell me 
frankly. I will help you as much as I can.” 

“Thank you— I need nothing,” replied Johanna 
with difficulty. 


THE WORKINGMAN^ WIFE 


221 


She could not confess that she was in need of as- 
sistance. 

“Well, then try to yield to the inevitable. It will 
not be long before your husband will be with you, 
and he will, I trust, be permanently cured.” 

Johanna took her leave and returned home slowly. 
She sought to find consolation in the justice’s words, 
although they brought her little. This conviction 
was firm within her: to wait and bear the bitterest 
need, rather than heap disgrace upon Wenzel’s name. 


XVII. 


Gerhard Frobel liked it very well in M. Betty, 
however, he could not forget, because he thought she 
really loved him, and because he deceived himself 
with regard to his own feelings. He still hoped to 
win her back. 

Hassel had written him that his sister had gone 
away; but he did not doubt that she would gladly 
accede to Gerhard’s wish, for he knew her heart, and 
was sure that she would be faithful to an attachment 
once formed. 

A great change had taken place in him; he worked 
all day in the factory, and began to take pleasure in 
work. 

As his father heard through Berger of the change 
in his son, he supplied him liberally with money, and 
Gerhard needed scarcely to deny himself a pleasure. 

Only one passion mastered him: gaming. Many 
an evening he spent at the gaming table with ac- 
quaintances, and Fortune was more favorable to him 
than formerly. He was convinced that those who 
had once called themselves his friends had cheated 
him. Therefore had they flattered and clung to him 
so closely. 

Among the friends he had made in M. was a young 
Herr von Harbusch, who had sold his estate and had 
moved to town in order to enjoy its pleasures, 

m 


THE WORKINGMAN^ WIFE 


223 


He met him one evening when he left the ware- 
house and was about to search for friends in order 
to spend a merry evening with them. 

“I am glad I met you,” cried he. “How shall we 
spend the evening? I do not care for the theater, 
for 1 was there }'esterday. You are better acquainted 
here, — where can we meet pleasant company?” 

“I cannot go with you to-day, for I am already 
bound by a promise,” replied young Herr von Har- 
busch. “Last night I made the acquaintance of one 
Herr von Crotten and his charming young wife. We 
played cards, and Herr von Crotten, a very affable 
man, seemed to be especially favored by fortune; he 
won a great deal. In order to give us satisfaction,, 
he invited a few of my friends and me to a small sup- 
per at his hotel this evening. Of course we shall play 
again.” 

“What a pity!” exclaimed Gerhard involuntarily, 
for it looked as if he vvould have to spend the even- 
ing alone. Moreover, he envied his friend the game 
he had in prospect. 

“Come with me,” said Herr von Harbusch. 

“How could I do so? Ido not know the gentleman,” 
said Gerhard. 

“That makes no difference,” continued Harbusch. 
“Herr von Crotten is very genial. This noon I met 
him; he reminded me not to come too late this even- 
ing and added if I had a friend who liked to play, I 
should bring him with me.” 

“Is that so?” asked Gerhard. 

“Upon my word of honor! Could I otherwise ask 
you to come?” 


224 the workingman's wipe 

“I am not dressed for a party,” said Gerhard. 

“Ha, ha! Look at me!” cried von Harbusch. “I 
have on my everyday clothes. Herr von Crotten 
emphatically asked us not to put on fine clothes, for 
he said, a frock coat and white vest always mar the 
gaiety. His wife, too, joined him in his request. 
Frobel, that pretty, animated; little woman will please 
you! Lieutenant Schulze was in love with her after 
seeing her the first time. She is rather coquettish, 
and it suits her unusually well. She can laugh so 
merrily too! If you are not afraid of losing your 
heart, come with me! That you will be hospitably 
welcomed, I do not doubt.” 

Gerhard still hesitated. 

“They play high, and I am not prepared for that 
to-day,” said he. 

“Nonsense! ’’cried von Harbusch, laying his hand 
upon his arm. “I have prepared myself for every 
emergency, and it therefore goes without saying that 
my money is at your service. Moreover, I intend to 
win back what I lost last night.” 

He drew Gerhard away with him. 

They reached the house in which Herr von Crotten 
lived; the windows were brightly lighted. 

“The man seems to have plenty of money, for this 
is the finest and dearest hotel in M.,” said von Har- 
- busch. 

“Will he remain here some time?” asked Gerhard. 

“Alas, no. He said yesterday that he and his wife 
would soon have to return to his estates, for he had 
undertaken to build quite extensively and therefore 
could not be absent long.” 



“Ah, Herr Frobel!” cried he in an uncertain voice, “I have already 
the pleasure of knowing you! Pray, may I speak with you a few min- 
utes? ’’—Page 2 26. 


226 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


They entered the hall. 

A waiter announced von Harbusch. He soon re- 
turned, and ushered the two friends into an ante-room. 
In the adjoining room they could hear merry and 
laughing voices. 

The waiter opened the door — von Harbusch en- 
tered followed by Gerhard. 

The brightly-lighted room dazzled Gerhard. He 
saw only a slender man and a finely dressed lady ad- 
vance. , 

Suddenly he paused; his eyes were fixed upon the 
latter’s face. 

Von Harbusch did not notice it; he did not even 
see the fear which was written upon the faces of 
Herr von Crotten and his wife — he introduced his 
friend. 

Still Gerhard stood there motionless; he had rec- 
ognized the gentleman and lady —they were Baron 
von Gersdorffen and Betty. 

The baron was the first to regain his self-possession; 
for him everything was at stake. 

“Ah, Herr Frobel,” cried he in an uncertain voice. 
“I have the pleasure of already knowing you! Pray, 
may I speak with you a few minutes?” 

He pointed to the door of the next room and 
seemed to expect that Gerhard would follow him 
thither, but the young man was unable to collect him- 
self so rapidly. 

“No— no,” cried he, rushing from the room. 

Herr von Harbusch followed him, to obtain an ex- 
planation of his strange behavior. 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


227 


A momentary, painful silence reigned in the room, 
for what had happened had been witnessed by all. 
Betty hastened into the adjoining room and locked 
the door behind her. 

The baron breathed irregularly; he saw that all 
eyes were upon him, and it was difficult to find a 
means of extricating himself from his painful position. 

“Gentlemen,” said he to those present, with an 
embarrassed smile. “You have witnessed this peculiar 
scene and have a right to ask an explanation of me. 
I would have been very glad had it been spared me, 
for I do not know in what relations you stand towards 
Herr Frobel, — I must, however, make it. I have 
already met Herr Frobel; he seemed to fancy my wife 
and showed his liking in a way which insulted me. 
Nothing remained for me to do than to demand satis- 
faction of him; and I am convinced that any one in 
my position would have done so. Honor is the most 
sacred thing to a man! Herr Frobel refused me that 
satisfaction. I do not accuse him of cowardice, but 
look upon his youth as an excuse. You can now 
understand my surprise and my embarrassment when 
I saw him enter suddenly, while I had no idea that 
he was in M. I can only explain his appearance in 
this way, that Herr von Harbusch, to whom I said to- 
day that I should be pleased if he would bring one 
or more of his friends with him to supper, did not 
tell him my name, or that he did not understand him. 
In order to avoid all upleasantness I asked Herr Fro- 
bel to go with me into the next room; there I should 
have begged him to excuse himself; I wished to 


228 


THE WORKINGMAN^ WIFE 


spare you this disagreeable scene; the gentleman does 
not seem to have understood me. I am sorry for my 
poor wife who, by this unexpected meeting will be 
deeply pained, but I hope that you will forget what 
has taken place, for it would grieve me were our 
evening upon which I have counted so much, to be 
spoiled. Now excuse me a few moments. I must go 
to my wife; perhaps I can succeed in quieting her.” 

He entered the adjoining room. 

None of those present doubted the truth of his 
words, for he had uttered them in a composed, simple 
manner. 

When the baron joined Betty, he found her stand- 
ing at the door, pale and agitated. Anxiously she 
gazed at him; he did not heed her glance. 

“Did you hear what I told the gentlemen?” asked 
he curtly. 

“Yes,” replied Betty, who had listened at the door. 

“Very well, then I need not repeat it to you. The 
devil sent that stupid fellow here to-night!” 

“What shall you do?” asked Betty anxiously. 

“The only thing that remains to be done! I shall 
try to make them forget the unpleasant interruption; 
we will therefore have supper served at once, the wine 
must do its part.” 

“I am now unable to come,” said Betty. “I can 
not regain my composure so quickly.” 

“I will excuse you,” continued the baron. “As 
soon as we begin to play you will, however, appear. 
It would be well if in the meantime you would use 
the time to pack our effects.” 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


229 


“Would it not be better to go away at once?” asked 
Betty. 

“No, I can not send the men home; they might 
possibly meet Frobel this evening and learn all.” 

“And if he were to return?” 

“That I fear the least. You do not seem to have 
noticed that he lost his head completely, as soon as 
he saw you. The fool still loves you and can not 
bear to see you in my company.” 

“He might apply to the police!” 

“Nonsense! Why should he? He does not know 
what took place in Frankfurt! I beg of you not to 
borrow trouble. I shall try to keep the gentlemen 
here to-night as late as possible, that we may gain 
time, and you know we must take advantage of this 
evening, for many weeks may pass before such a 
favorable opportunity will present itself.” 

New fears arose in Betty’s mind; she dreaded be- 
trayal by Gerhard, and thought the policemen would 
enter any moment to arrest the baron and her. 

Impatiently and angrily Gersdorffen stamped his 
foot. 

“You shall do as I tell you,” cried he. “If you do 
not, I will leave you, and you can remain here alone; 
you will then see how far your shrewdness will help 
you! You should know me well enough to know that 
on what I have resolved, I do, and that I never 
allow myself to be influenced!” 

Without awaiting Betty’s reply, he left her; he 
knew that she would act in accordance with his 
wishes. 


230 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


“My wife regrets that she can not be present at 
supper,” said he to his guests on his return. “But 
she has promised to join us later. Now, come, sirs; 
that interruption must not mar our gaiety 1” 

With a smile he opened the door of the adjoining 
room in which the table was spread. 

The wine speedily did its work, and when the meal 
was over, the host and his guests took their seats at 
the card table. Betty then joined them. She looked 
pale and ill. 

The game seemed to have no interest for her, she 
turned her entire attention to the glasses, which she 
filled and refilled. 

The baron on that evening was especially favored 
by fortune. That it was owing to his extraordinary 
dexterity in shuffling the cards, no one suspected. 

Several of the men who had lost heavily did not 
seem inclined to play any longer. But he persuaded 
them to continue until their money was exhausted, 
telling them that the situation was extremely embar- 
rassing to him, for he could not understand his good- 
fortune. 

“I scarcely shall dare to invite you a third time to 
play,” said he, “still I should like you to have your 
revenge to-morrow!” 

They promised to return the following night, for 
none of them suspected the baron of dishonest prac- 
tices. 

Gersdorffen knew Gerhard too well to be mistaken 
in him. The unexpected meeting with Betty, whom 
he loved, had given him a severe shock. As to her 


The worEiNgmaH’s wife 231 

relations with the baron there could be no doubt, 
and he had fancied she loved him. 

Like a madman he rushed from the hotel. Herr 
von Harbusch followed him, in order to obtain an ex- 
planation. Upon the street he caught up with him. 

“Frobel, I do not understand you!” said he. “You 
know Herr von Crotten and his wife! What has 
happened between you that you rush thus from the 
house?” 

Gerhard scarcely heard the words; he still did not 
know if he was dreaming. 

“I pray you, leave me!” cried he. 

“You owe me an explanation, for I introduced you 
at Herr von Crotten’s,” continued Harbusch. 

“You shall have it!” cried Gerhard with agitation. 
“I will give you the explanation you desire — but not 
now — not to-day — it is impossible Were you never 
in your life shamefully deceived? Have your wishes, 
your hopes ever been shattered at a blow?” 

“I do not understand you,” said von Harbusch. 

“To-morrow I will tell you all, then you will un- 
derstand me. To-day I can not, for I must learn 
to understand it myself,” cried Gerhard, rushing past 
von Harbusch so quickly that the latter could not 
follow him. 

The next morning he did not go to the warehouse, 
because he intended to seek an explanation from 
Betty. With a throbbing heart he repaired to the 
hotel in which she lived with Gersdorffen. He asked 
the waiter for Herr von Crotten. 

“He left early this morning,” replied the man. 


232 THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 

“Where did he go? And — and — his wife?” asked 
Gerhard. 

“Of course she went with him,” said the waiter 
with a smile. “He told me,” he added, “if anyone 
inquired for him, to say he had been called by a dis- 
patch to his estate and had therefore to leave at 
once. Where his estate is, I do not know.” 

Gerhard left without replying. He took with him 
the conviction that Betty was unworthy his love. 

At the Bergers, preparations were being made for 
the reception of visitors. Thekla Bremer, who was 
related to Berger’s wife, had long since promised to 
come to M. with Ina, and was about to fulfill her 
promise. 

The old lady, who still hated the men, arrived 
finally in M. Gerhard was confined to his room by 
indisposition and days passed without his meeting 
the two ladies who were under the same roof with 
him. 

“Well, are you not anxious to meet our guests?” 
asked Berger who had come to inquire about his 
health. 

“I am not curious,” returned Gerhard with a smile. 
“I shall become acquainted with both ladies soon 
enough.” * 

“Will you dine with us to-day?” asked Berger. 

Gerhard replied in the affirmative. Calmly he 
awaited the dinner-hour, for Berger had not succeeded 
in arousing his curiosity. After the deceit practiced 
upon him by Betty, he had determined to give no one 
his heart again. 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


233 


With composure he bowed to Ina as she was in- 
troduced to him. He saw that Berger’s eyes were 
fastened searchingly upon him, and he tried to con- 
ceal his surprise at Ina’s beauty. 

He was silent, for in Ina’s vicinity he felt an em- 
barrassment hitherto unknown to him. Involuntarily 
he compared her with Betty. She seemed to him 
like a child, so frank and confiding was she. 

Then he turned to Ina’s aur>t. With difficulty 
could Gerhard suppress a smile at the man-hater’s 
peculiarities. 

After dinner, when Berger left for his warehouse, 
he gladly accepted Frau Berger’s invitation to enter- 
tain the ladies. 

The afternoon drew him nearer Ina. And she was 
truly delighted to find someone to whom she could 
speak of her home. 

In the evening Thekla glanced severely at Ina, for 
she did not approve of her intimacy with Gerhard; 
but Ina was unaware of her aunt’s sentiments, for 
she was innocent; she treated Gerhard as she would 
have any other man, for, so far, he had not impressed 
her in the least. 

With Gerhard, it was different; he spent the next 
and the next evenings at home, and when Berger 
asked how it came about that he was suddenly so 
domesticated, he blushed slightly and replied that he 
was not entirely well yet. 

A few days later, as her aunt and Frau Berger 
were both indisposed, Ina took a walk alone. In 
order to escape recognition, she wore a veil. 


234 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


It was the first time she had gone out alone in M. 

She at length saw Gerhard approaching her. He 
was alone. He did not perceive her until quite near 
her. Her heart pulsated more rapidly. Should she 
pass him in silence? She was still in doubt as to 
what to do, when Gerhard raised his head and saw 
her. 

“I did not expect to meet you here” cried he, joy- 
fully. 

“It was too close indoors — I longed to be outside,” 
replied Ina, as if excusing herself. 

“I believe you,” said Gerhard, “I think it must be 
dreadful to be always in your aunt’s company.” 

Ina smiled. 

“And yet she is so kind, notwithstanding her fail- 
ings,” said she. “Her heart is tender, but she has 
had many experiences which have embittered her.” 

“It is impossible for me to imagine that that old 
lady has a heart,” cried Gerhard, laughing. 

“Do you wish to force me to continue my walk 
alone?” interrupted Ina. 

“No, no, Ina,” continued Gerhard, with anima- 
tion. “I am indeed pleased that I have you alone. 
In Berger’s rooms I feel that your aunt’s eyes are 
upon me, and they deprive me of the courage to tell 
you of what, since the day upon which I first met you, 
has filled my heart.” 

“I pray you, cease,” cried the maiden, almost im- 
ploringly. 

“Will you rob me of the opportunity of expressing 
myself frankly?” continued Gerhard. “Ina, can you 


THE WORKWOMAN'S WIFE 


235 


reproach me for the fact that since that day my 
thoughts have been yours? I may be unworthy of you; 
but no human power, not even yours, can prevent 
my heart beating for you!” 

Ina was unable to reply; but she walked faster, as 
if to escape him. 

“I pray you, listen to me,” said Gerhard, keeping 
close to her side. “From the candid way in which 
I shall lay bare to you my entire life, you can see that 
it is impossible for me to deceive you.” 

Ina still remained silent. 

He then told her of his extravagances and follies, 
and asked her to help him lead a better future. 

“Ina, at least, do not deprive me of hope,” he added, 
seizing her hand. “You can take back your word 
any day if you see that I am unworthy of your love. 
Or do you not believe in the ennobling power of love? 
Are you so indifferent to me, that you feel no com- 
passion for me?” 

“No — no!” stammered Ina — she scarcely knew what 
she said. Gerhard’s confession had surprised her, 
she felt that her heart was Gerhard’s, but she could 
not believe it ! 

Ina trembled, yet she did not withdraw her hand. 

“Will you give me this hand?” cried Gerhard, clasp- 
ing it still tighter. “You can make one being happy 
for life, — do not say no!” 

“You have it!” replied Ina softly. 

“Mine, mine!” rejoiced Gerhard. He pressed it to 
his lips and would have clasped her to his breast, 
had he not seen people in the distance. 


236 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


Ina urged him to return home. Arm-in-arm they 
returned to the town. 

When they reached Berger’s house and Gerhard 
drew her to him and pressed the first kiss upon her 
lips, she freed herself and hastened to her room. 

Thekla saw her enter with heightened color and 
beating breast; she seemed to be startled, and yet 
her eyes beamed with happiness. The old lady asked 
sharply: 

“What has happened?” 

At first Ina hesitated. Then, approaching her 
aunt, she took her right hand in both of hers and 
cried: “Aunt, I am engaged!” 

Coldly she withdrew her hand. 

“Engaged?” she repeated. 

“Yes, aunt!” cried the happy girl. 

“To whom?” she asked. 

“To Gerhard.” 

The old lady started up; she looked at Ina as if 
she had seen a ghost. 

“To whom?” she asked once more, for she must 
have misunderstood her niece’s words, it was not 
possible. 

“To Gerhard,” again said Ina. 

“To him, to that horrible person!” cried Thekla. 
“But I will not have it, never! To that person 
whom I hate, whom I can scarcely bear to see, to 
that person who has addressed no pleasant word to 
me — I will not have it!” 

“Aunt, he is good and he loves me dearly,” implored 
Ina. “He said his happiness would be destroyed if 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


237 


I did not become his. Could I make him un- 
happy?” 

“Yes, he deserves nothing better!” cried the old 
lady, beside herself with excitement. “So this is the 
fruit of my admonitions! I have so often told you 
men are worthless; you have not listened to me. Ah, 
such ingratitude is without a parallel ! But you shall 
not marry the fellow! I will not have it!” 

“Aunt, I love him and no one can prevent my 
marrying him,” cried Ina. 

“Ah, you dare to defy me?” cried she, and her voice 
trembled. 

“Yes! I will not allow my life’s happiness to be 
destroyed by any one, least of all by one blinded by 
absurd prejudices!” 

“Then I am quit of you!” cried Thekla. “I will 
have nothing to do with you, and you will not in- 
herit a mark of that which I have intended for you.” 

“I have counted on nothing,” replied Ina. 

The old lady for a moment did not answer, then 
she continued: 

“One thing more I must tell you: if you do not 
retract your promise you gave that fellow, I shall go 
away to-day, nor will I take you with me, for my 
house from this time forth is closed against you— you 
can see where you will obtain support.” 

Tears rose to Ina’s eyes. She could not give up 
Gerhard. She sought to change her aunt’s decision, 
but in vain. 

When Ina found that her prayers proved of no 
avail, she hastened to Berger’s room and tearfully 


238 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


informed him of her aunt’s determination and of the 
cause of the same. 

Berger shook his head. 

“I do not believe that she will go as far as that,” 
said he. 

“She will; she dislikes Gerhard, so she opposes 
me.” 

“I will speak with her myself,” said Berger. “Re- 
main here, while I go to her; I will soon bring her 
to reason.” 

After a short time Berger returned; his face was 
red, his brows were contracted. 

Anxiously Ina glanced at him. 

“Your aunt is absurd,” said he at length. “All 
reasoning has proved fruitless against her stubborn- 
ness. She insists upon leaving to-day. So, my pa- 
tience exhausted, I told her that I could and would 
not hold her.” 

“She is going away and will not take me with her!” 
cried Ina tearfully. 

“Calm yourself,” said Berger, taking the girl’s 
hand. “I will keep you here as I would my daughter, 
and if you do not like it, Gerhard’s father will receive 
you, for he can wish for no greater happiness for his 
son than you will give him.” 

Thekla Bremer left in a few hours, without bidding 
Ina farewell. 

The latter was soon consoled by Gerhard who 
kissed away her tears. 

When late at night Ina sought her room, she wrote 
a long letter to Johanna and told her friend of her 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


239 


happiness. A few days thereafter, the letter was 
returned to her, with word to this effect: that her 
friend was not in her former home. 

Ina had no suspicion of Johanna’s distress, and 
comforted herself with the thought that in a short 
while she would see her in person, for Gerhard’s 
father was coming to take her home with him. 


XX. 


Johanna’s life grew sadder and drearier. The day 
on which sentence was to be pronounced upon Wen- 
zel and Brand arrived; Johanna knew of it, but she 
was unable to be present. 

The court-room was filled with workmen; with 
moody composure Wenzel had confessed all, scarcely 
daring to raise his eyes. Brand was not depressed, 
but spoke eloquently, though his words availed him 
naught ; he and Wenzel were sentenced to two months, 
imprisonment. 

When she heard the result of the trial, no word of 
complaint passed Johanna’s lips, for she had not 
counted upon Wenzel’s release. 

In order to fill her cup of sorrow to overflowing, 
the landlord had turned her out of her rooms because 
she could not pay the rent, and had kept most of her 
furniture. 

In a narrow, out-of-the-way street on the fourth 
floor Johanna had found a small room; thither she 
repaired with her child and the few things still re- 
maining to her. She had very little that she could 
sell, and the bitterest need knocked at her door, for 
she could not sew much, as the care of her sickly 
child took most of her time. 

Had she not had the child, she would not have 
240 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


24I 


borne the misery. For its sake, she must bear up, 
for what would become of the poor little being were 
it to be left without her care? 

Pale and wretched, she sat one morning in the nar- 
row, miserable room. The child had been wakeful 
all night; it was now asleep; she had seated herself 
at the window and taken up her sewing, for she had 
to work in order to live. 

As she sat there, she recalled her past life. Sadly 
She looked towards the future. Should she ask char- 
ity of others and become a beggar? At that thought 
she started, “Never- never! Rather would I seek 
death !” she was about to cry, when her gaze fell upon 
her sleeping child. For its sake she must live. 

The child’s fretfulness during the night was the 
commencement of an illness the gravity of which she 
did not suspect. From the mother’s anxiety and 
sorrow the little one had imbibed the germs of disease. 

Johanna was unwearying in her care for the child; 
she seemed to think of nothing else. That day and 
the following night passed and she did not suspect 
her child’s illness; only when on the second day its 
face changed strikingly, did she recognize the dan- 
ger. Despair possessed her. She could not leave 
the babe to summon a doctor and had no one to send. 

Finally she succeeded in inducing a woman who 
lived in the same house to fetch a doctor. It was 
not an easy matter in the large city, for poverty- 
stricken abodes physicians do not enter very readily. 

Towards evening he came. He stepped to the tiny 
bed and looked at the child; he laid his hand upon 



As she sat there, she lived over her past life. Sadly she looked to- 
wards the future. — Page 241. 



THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


243 


its brow and felt the feeble pulse. Slowly, as if 
pained, he shrugged his shoulders. 

With watchful, fearful eyes Johanna glanced at 
him; convulsively she grasped his arm. 

“Doctor, is there any danger?” she Gried. 

The doctor looked at the pale, pretty face of the 
young woman. It seemed to embarrass him to have 
to tell her the truth. 

“Be calm, compose yourself!” said he. 

“Is danger imminent?” asked Johanna. “Tell me 
the truth.” 

The doctor hesitated. Of what avail was it to 
hesitate. Would not the truth in a few hours shock 
the unhappy woman more severely? Dared he leave 
her unprepared? 

“Compose yourself!” he implored, seizing Johanna’s 
hand. “We must submit to the inevitable — my help 
is too late!” 

With a piercing shriek Johanna swooned. 

The doctor raised her and laid her upon her bed; 
he called the woman who had summoned him and 
then left the room. 

When Johanna recovered consciousness, she was 
inspired with anxiety; she rushed to her child’s bed- 
side in order to clasp it in both arms. She dismissed 
the woman, for she longed to be alone. Never had 
she longed so yearningly for Wenzel as now, when 
despair threatened to overwhelm her. Only he could 
have known what she suffered, for only his heart had 
part in the child. 

Johanna sat motionlessly beside the bed of her 


244 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


child, who scarcely showed a sign of life; her eyes 
were fixed upon the tiny face, which grew paler and 
paler. 

The lamp burned lower and lower, but Johanna 
did not notice it. Her head sank upon her breast; 
finally her eyes closed; sleep had overcome her. 

When she awoke, she started up, for the morning 
sun shone brightly into the small room; she looked 
at her child. It lay there so quietly; was it still 
asleep? Softly she laid her hand upon its brow; in 
terror she started, for its brow was cold. 

She shuddered; it was cold in the room. Half- 
asleep, not realizing that her little one was already 
dead, she rushed to the stove to light a fire. The 
child must have warmth. 

When the fire was kindled, when she had put coal 
on it, she hastened back to the bed. Gently she 
took the child’s small hand, it was cold too; she felt 
its heart — it was still. With a shriek she raised the 
tiny being, pressed her lips upon mouth and cheeks, 
pressed it to her bosom in order to warm it, for she 
could not reconcile herself to the thought that it was 
dead. 

All her caresses did not call back the life which had 
flown. Then she held up her darling, looked at it 
and cried: “Almighty God! Dead! Dead!” 

She stood there several seconds trembling; then 
she laid the remains upon the bed. Suddenly a mys- 
terious calm crept over her; not a tear entered her 
eyes. The excess of her grief froze her; no words, no 
lamentations could have expressed it. The entire 
outer world seemed dead to her. 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


245 


For some time she sat there; her head finally grew 
dizzy, she tried to rise, but fell back upon the chair. 
Once more she gathered together all her strength; 
she noticed that the room was filled with suffocating 
coal-gas. She felt impelled to hasten to the window 
in order to open it and to obtain air; she had reached 
the window and was stretching out her hand, when 
she let it fall, for one thought occurred to her. 

What bound her to life? Could she not let the 
coal gas complete the work which it had begun ? 
Would not all her pains be stilled at once? Her 
anguish disappeared; a passionate longing for rest 
and eternal sleep possessed her. Then she thought 
no more except of Wenzel, but without sorrow; 
when he returned from prison, both she and the child 
would be dead — he would be unhampered — it would 
perhaps be best for him. 

With difficulty she dragged herself to the stove, put 
a few fresh coals on the fire and closed the damper. 

Slowly she returned to bed, half-unconscious; she 
sank beside her child’s body which she encircled with 
her arms. 

Thus— thus she would die and find peace. 


XXI. 


Gerhard accompanied Ina to his parents’ home, in 
order to introduce her. They received their pros- 
pective daughter with open arms. 

On the following day, Ina, escorted by Gerhard, set 
out in search of her friend, and they repaired to the 
home in which she had formerly lived, in order to 
obtain information with regard to her. 

The landlord, of whom they inquired, told them of 
the fate which had befallen Johanna’s husband. 

“Where is she?” asked Ina, with difficulty artic- 
ulating the words. 

“I do not know nor do I care,” replied the man. 
“She could not pay the rent, so I simply turned her 
out. I retained a portion of her goods, in order to 
have security.” 

“Oh, God !” cried Ina, pressing her hands to her 
eyes, for a miserable picture rose before them. Her 
friend put out of her home, alone with her child, 
without any aid. Ina drew Gerhard away, for she 
could not listen to the heartless man’s words. 

Frobel could not tell Ina where his former over- 
seer’s wife lived. At length, through one of his men, 
he found out where the unhappy woman had found 
shelter. 

“Remain here, I will go to her,” said he to Ina, 
246 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 247 

for the man had told him of Johanna’s distress, and 
he wished to hide it from his soil’s betrothed. 

“I must go to her myself,” replied Ina. 

“You will no doubt find your friend very much 
changed,” continued Frobel; “she is in needy cir- 
cumstances. Let me go to her first.” 

“If she is in distress, I should surely go to her,” 
replied Ina. “I shall have no peace until I have seen 
her. She once comforted me and stood by me, and 
now that I may possibly help her, shall I hesi- 
tate?” 

“Then I will go with you,” said Frobel. 

When they reached the house and were about to 
ascend the narrow, dark staircase, Ina paused. 

“She lives in such a wretched place!” cried she, 
with difficulty restraining her tears. 

Slowly they mounted the stairs; of a woman, whom 
they met, Frobel asked if Johanna lived there. 

“She lives here, but you must go up two more 
flights,” said she. “She must be at home, for I have 
not seen her this morning.” 

“How is she?” asked Ina, impatient to learn more 
about her friend. 

The woman looked keenly at Ina and hesitated 
several seconds before she replied. 

“Badly off,” said she at length. “Her husband 
can not work, so she is in want. Moreover, her child 
died last night.” 

When Ina heard those words she hastened on, 
anxious to comfort her friend. 

Frobel could scarcely follow her. 


248 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


Arrived at Johanna’s door, Ina sought to open the 
same; she knocked, but received no reply. 

Once more Ina knocked —in vain; Frobel tried to 
open the door, but it resisted his efforts. 

“Something is wrong here; the door must be 
opened !” cried Ina anxiously. 

Unsuccessfully Frobel tried to soothe her. 

“I would not be surprised,” said the woman who 
in her curiosity had joined them. “Last night in her 
distress she was all unstrung, and she can not stand 
very much, for she looks ill.” 

Ina could not reply; she was forced to lean against 
the wall in order to stand upright. 

Frobel tried once more to open the door; he bore 
his weight upon it, and the frail lock gave way. 

Dense smoke was all that could be seen. 

“Almighty God!” cried Ina, trying to enter the 
room. 

Frobel held her back. 

“Let me go in first!” cried he, and hastening to 
the window he opened, it in order to obtain air, for 
the coal gas was suffocating. 

Ina had, however, followed him. She saw her friend 
and her child lying upon the bed, she rushed to them, 
called Johanna’s name, and with the cry: “Heavenly 
Father! She is dead — dead!” — she cast herself upon 
her. 

“I thought so!” said the woman, who had entered 
too. 

As if turned to stone Frobel stood there; but he 
soon controlled himself, approached the unconscious 
woman and took her hand, — it was still warm. 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


249 


“She may yet be saved, there is still life in her 
body,” cried he. “Fetch a doctor at once,” he said 
to the woman. “But quickly, quickly; I will pay 
you well for every moment !” 

That promise did not fail to have its effect; the 
woman hurried away. 

Frobel raised Johanna and bore her to the open 
window; he placed her in a chair. 

Ina turned to lift the child, but recoiled when she 
found that the tiny form was already rigid. 

She then approached Johanna, fell upon her knees 
before her, seized the unconscious woman’s hands 
and pressed them to her lips. Sobbing, she called her 
name; no answer followed; she gave no sign of life. 

The doctor came. He examined the woman and 
did not give up the hope of saving her. Then he 
turned to the child. 

“It has been dead some time; that life ebbed away 
twelve hours ago,” said he. 

“She could and would not outlive the loss of her 
child,” cried Ina, who did not leave her friend’s 
side. 

At length Johanna showed signs of returning con- 
sciousness; her pulse was again noticeable, but it was 
very feeble. She was carried back to bed, in order 
that she might breathe more freely. 

“Let her have good care and nursing,” said Frobel 
to the doctor. “Spare no expense; I will pay it.” 

The doctor assured him that he would see to mat- 
ters. 

“I hope to save her,” said he. “How long she will 


250 THE workingman's WIFE 

suffer from the results of the blood-poisoning, I can 
not tell.” 

“Obtain a nurse, who will stay^ until she is well 
again,” added Frobel. 

“I shall remain here — I will nurse her!” cried Ina. 

“No!” said Frobel. “Your frail body would not 
bear the strain. You can visit her daily; her care 
must be entrusted to a practical hand.” 

As the doctor hastened away to obtain a nurse, 
Frobel had the child’s body removed from the room 
and attended to the matter of its burial. 

Then he returned home with Ina. 

Johanna convalesced very slowly. 

Ina could not visit her friend for several days. 
When she did so and entered the sick-room, she 
found Johanna sitting up in bed. She extended her 
arms, to Ina, who rushed to her, embraced her and 
sobbing, buried her face upon her breast. 

In Johanna’s eyes, too, the tears gathered and slowly 
trickled down her cheeks. Caressingly, soothingly 
she slowly passed her hand over Ina’s hair. 

“I am glad that you came,” said she, gently raising 
her friend. “Sit down here on my bed. I have so 
much upon my heart that I can tell to you alone, for 
I know you will understand me. Ina, you have saved 
my life, and I thank you for doing so. When I re- 
solved to die, I scarcely knew what I was doing; 
despair had possessed me, and I felt that I could live 
no longer. My child was dead and I was alone — en- 
tirely alone and deserted. I tremble even now as I 
look back upon those dark, terrible hours. One 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


251 


thought torments me constantly. In a few days, 
Wenzel will be released; he must not know that I 
attempted to take my life, —it would destroy the 
pleasure of meeting again.’’ 

“Johanna, he has no right to reproach you, for — is 
it your fault that this happened?” cried Ina. “Is it 
your fault that your happiness has been destroyed? 
Did he not do it himself?” 

“He was carried away by an idea, he was misled! 
And the man he injured has been so kind to me; he 
does not bear me any malice. Will you thank him 
for me?” 

“I know he did it gladly,” assured Ina, “and I am 
convinced that for your sake he will pardon Wenzel.” 

After that Ina visited her friend daily. 

Frobel was still vexed with Wenzel and was loathe 
to grant Ina’s request, and yet he secretly paid the 
Wenzels’ overdue rent and had the furniture retained 
sent to Johanna’s apartments, without mentioning his 
share in it. 

The day on which Wenzel was to be liberated drew 
near. With impatience and at the same time with 
dread Johanna anticipated it. She hoped that with 
Wenzel’s return a new life might begin for her. But 
she dreaded breaking to her husband the death of their 
babe, and Ina promised that one of Frobel’s workmen 
should tell him of it before he left the prison— 

After his release, as he was stepping out of the 
door, he was joined by the messenger sent by Frobel. 

The man seized his arm and detained him. 

“Stay, for I bring you a message from your wife,” 

said he. 


252 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


‘‘From my wife?” cried Wenzel quickly. “How is 
she?” 

“She has been ill, very ill,” was the man’s reply. 
“Nor has she yet fully recovered and she requires the 
most careful nursing. She has seen trying times. 
There are cares and sorrow which even the strongest 
disposition can not shake off!” 

Wenzel involuntarily passed his hand over his 
brow. She had been ill, she had seen trying times — 
was not he to blame? Was there not a reproach in 
the man’s words? 

The joy which had filled his breast vanished. 

“How is my child?” he asked at length. 

The man hesitated; it was difficult for him to tell 
the truth and yet he dared not hide it. 

“It is — dead,” was the answer. 

“Dead! Dead!” repeated Wenzel. Dead perhaps 
for want of proper care! Ah, and that too!” 

He pressed his hands to his eyes. Then only did 
he thoroughly comprehend how much Johanna had 
suffered; for he knew how tenderly she loved the 
child. 

“I have told you that you might have time to com- 
pose yourself,” continued the man. “I know how 
such news grieves and it was better for you to learn 
it through me than for your wife to be obliged to tell 
you.” 

“Yes, it is better so,” he replied, scarcely knowing 
what he said. “It is better so, for my first question 
would have been for the child. Have you anything 
more to tell me?” 


THE WORKINGMAN'S WIFE 


253 


“No. Come, I will take you to your wife.” 

“No, no, leave me! I can find the way alone,” 
said Wenzel, anxious to be alone, that he might strive 
for composure. 

“You do not know where she lives,” said the man. 

“I do not know?” repeated Wenzel in surprise. 
“Has she left the rooms in which I lived?” 

The man nodded his head in the affirmative. 

“Why?” asked Wenzel. “She liked those rooms, 
we were so happy in them.” 

Again the man hesitated; still he would have to 
learn it, and it would be better he should tell him 
than Johanna. 

“Necessity compelled her,” replied he. “She was 
unable to pay the rent; so she was put out of the 
house, — landlords seldom have hearts. Had I known 
in time how matters were with her, I would have 
helped her as much as possible; but she has borne it 
all alone.” 

Wenzel did not speak; he could not. Silently, 
bowed down, staring fixedly before him, for he feared 
to meet an old acquaintance, he followed the work- 
man. 

So that was the first greeting of his freedom, and 
all he had brought about himself. 

When they reached the house in which Johanna 
lived, the man paused. 

“She lives here — on the fourth floor!” said he. 

Wenzel scarcely seemed to hear the words; nothing 
could detain him longer. He rushed up the stairs, he 
burst open the door; a frail form tottered towards 
him — it was Johanna, 


254 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


Hastening to her, he flung himself before her, 
clasped her knees, buried his face in her dress and 
cried, amid his sobs: “Forgive me, Johanna, forgive 
me !” 

With tears in her eyes, the young wife stooped and 
raised him. She had forgotten his faults; she was 
happy to be able to cast herself upon his breast. 

It was a touching yet tender meeting. Between 
them lay a tiny grave and many tears. 

“Johanna!” cried Wenzel. “Iamcured; from now 
on my life shall belong only to you!” 

“Hold fast to your resolution and happiness will 
return to us,” replied the sorely tried woman, falling 
upon his breast. 


XXII. 


A difficult task lay before Wenzel the next morn- 
ing: he went to Frobel to thank him for what he had 
done for his wife. 

In answer to Wenzel's plea that he had meant to 
do right,— but that he had been misled, he replied: 

“I believe you. If I did not, I should not lose one. 
word on you. You had an excellent position ; it will 
not be easy to find such an one again. What shall 
you do now?” 

“I shall seek work and begin from the beginning.” 

Frobel did not reply; his eyes rested upon the 
man’s bent form. 

“Will you have the courage to carry that out?” he 
asked. “Will not discontent again possess you when 
you think of your former position?” 

“No, I will bear it— I owe it to my wife,” said 
Wenzel in a low voice. 

“Yes, you have a great deal to atone for to her,” 
continued Frobel. “You must build up from the 
foundation her happiness, which you destroyed. If 
your striving is honest and earnest, I will stand by 
you— but only as long as I see that you are faithful 
to your word.” 

“I will remain so,” assured Wenzel. 

“I believe you. What can I do for you?” 

255 


256 THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 

“Take me back as a workman!” cried Wenzel. 

“Your former position is filled; I can not put the 
man out who has it, for I have no cause to be dis- 
satisfied with him.” 

“I will be satisfied with the position of a common 
workman.” 

“Very well,” said Frobel, extending to him his 
hand. “Now return to your wife and remain with 
her to-day, for she has been alone long enough!” 

Wenzel withdrew. 

Frobel told Ina what he had done on his return 
home. 

Ina felt that her friend’s position would be humil- 
iating, but Frobel thought it was the best means of 
strengthening his character. 

At Frobel’s wish, Ina remained in his house. 
Gerhard returned to M., but only for a short time, 
as he desired to enter his father’s business, which 
pleased the latter very much. He had really become 
another man and himself could not understand how 
he could have found pleasure iri his early life. 

On his way home, a few days later, tired from a 
business journey, he entered an inn to obtain refresh- 
ment. Scarcely had he seated himself, when Hassel 
entered the room. The latter looked very shabby; 
his coat was threadbare, his cheeks more sunken than 
usual. 

Involuntarily Gerhard turned away his face; but 
the bookkeeper had not lost his impertinence. 

Apparently delighted, he advanced and seated 
himself at the same table. 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


257 


“I did not expect to find you here,” said he. “I 
thought you were still in M.” 

“I returned a few days ago,” replied Gerhard, 
rather coldly. 

“I have been told that you are engaged; I wish you 
joy,” continued Hassel. “I wanted to write to you 
to M. to congratulate you, but I have been unfort- 
unate; I have been ill, I still feel weak and can 
barely earn enough to live upon. The happy days 
we once spent together, have long since passed; I 
never meet our old friends.” 

“Where is the baron?” asked Gerhard. 

The bookkeeper’s brows contracted. “The rascal 
deserted my sister in the most shameful manner!” 
cried he with agitation. “He left her in L. entirely 
without means, without enough even to pay her hotel- 
bill, so that she had to sell her effects in order to pay 
it and obtain money with which to return. She is 
now living here, and is badly off, for I can do nothing 
for her. What her future will be I do not know, but 
I fear it will be sad. I have thought of leaving town 
with her.” 

“Give her this,” said Gerhard, handing the book- 
keeper his purse. 

“Thank you,” replied Hassel, whose face changed 
as he became aware of the weight of the purse. 
“Betty would be delighted if you would call upon 
her. Only yesterday did she tell me how much she 
longed to see you.” 

“No!” replied Gerhard decisively. “I shall never 
see her again. What once attracted me to her is 
past; I would not visit her, were I not engaged.” 


258 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


Hassel dared not urge Gerhard and the latter soon 
withdrew. 

Several months sped by. In Frobel’s house hap- 
piness reigned and the day of the young couple’s 
marriage was rapidly approaching. 

Wenzel was still employed as an ordinary work- 
man, and he remained true to his promise and worked 
diligently. 

Johanna was well again and her cheeks were as 
rosy as ever. 

Ina had repeatedly besought Frobel to give Wen- 
zel a better position, but each time he replied with a 
laugh: “Not yet, child. His probation is not ended. 
He must learn that happiness is not so easily won. 
Moreover, he seems perfectly satisfied with his 
lot.” 

Frobel went away for eight days; the result of his 
trip seemed to have been successful, for he was very 
merry. 

On the morning after his return he sent for Wen- 
zel; with composure the latter entered. 

“Wenzel, I am satisfied with your zeal and your 
diligence. I hoped to be able to give you back your 
former position, but I can not send away the man 
who has it without cause. But I promised you more 
and I must keep my word. I am going to open a 
branch at L. At first I thought I should entrust the 
management of it to my son, but he wishes to remain 
here. As it requires at its head a reliable man, and 
as you have again won my confidence, I shall give 
the position to you.” 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


259 


Wenzel started; the blood rushed to his cheeks. 

“Herr Frobel!” was all he could say. 

“Let me finish first!” said Frobel with a smile. “I 
will pay you higher wages than you had as foreman, 
and to spur you on will give you a certain share in 
the profits.” 

Wenzel stood there motionless; his breast seemed 
too full for utterance. At length he seized Frobel’s 
hand in passionate excitement. 

“I have no words with which to thank you, but I 
shall by my deeds prove to you, that I shall never — 
never forget what you have done for me.” 

“Keep to that,” said the manufacturer. “But one 
thing I must say to you, for you are coming into 
closer relations with me, and mutual candor is our 
first duty. What I am doing is not alone for your 
sake but for your wife’s, that she may have a happier 
life. Therefore, never forget how much you owe your 
wife. Always listen to her voice, for her sight is 
clear, and you will find no one who is more honest 
with you. Now go home — and tell your wife the 
news; she knows nothing of it as yet.” 

Wenzel hastened away. Joyfully he rushed into 
the room, on reaching home; he clasped his wife in 
his arms and kissed her passionately. 

- “To you do I owe this good fortune!” cried Wen- 
zel. “Frobel told me that he did this for me for your 
sake! You shall have a happier life, and I will see 
that your wishes are fulfilled.” 

Johanna trembled with joyful excitement. 

“Karl,” said she,” let us at this hour determine to 


26 o 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


prove ourselves worthy of the good fortune bestowed 
upon us.” 

“I will thank Frobel by deeds!” cried Wenzel. “I 
have promised him and myself that.” 


XXIII. 


Wenzel’s removal to L. was deferred until after 
Gerhard’s marriage, for Ina could not spare her friend 
on her wedding-day, and Frobel wanted to accom- 
pany Wenzel to L. 

It was a happy morning on which they left the 
city. As Johanna sat by the carriage-window, Frobel 
laid his hand upon her arm and said: 

“Now, bid farewell to all sad memories. She who 
enters upon a new life, must take with her a heart 
filled with new hopes.” 

They soon reached B., where they had to change 
cars, the train awaited them. The porter who opened 
the door for them, told them they had not a minute 
to lose. 

Hastily they proceeded toward the other train. 

“Quick — quick!” cried another porter, opening the 
door. 

Johanna was in advance of the rest. Without 
looking up, she proceeded to within a few paces of 
the porter, when she raised her eyes and drew back 
in surprise. 

“What ails you?” asked Wenzel, but he too started 
when he saw the porter who turned away his head. 

Johanna, Wenzel and Frobel entered the carriage; 
the doors were closed and the train moved on. 

2C1 



WA 


She could only takeFrobel’s hand and press it to her lips. — Page 263, 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 265 

Wenzel looked at his wife. 

“Did you recognize the man?” he asked. 

Johanna nodded. The porter was no less a per- 
sonage than Lieutenant Rudolph von Brankow. 

Brankow had by his frivolity been led into deeds 
which caused his dismissal from the service. With- 
out means and without capabilities, he had been 
forced to take the position of a porter. 

The sadness which possessed all three only disap- 
peared when they reached L., and Frobel led them 
to the new factory, adjoining which was a pretty cot- 
tage in the midst of a garden. 

“Do you like your house?” asked Frobel. 

Johanna stood by, speechless; she could only take 
Frobel’s hand and press it to her lips. 

“You are doing too much — too much for us!” cried 
Wenzel with emotion. 

* * * * * * 

The romance is ended. 

We have only to add that the new factory at L. 
prospered, for Wenzel did all in his power to repay 
Frobel’s confidence in him. 

Johanna made the tiny house neat and cozy, and 
she and Wenzel were so happy that they would not 
exchange with any one. 

Frobel came more frequently to L. than he had 
intended to. At home his place was filled by Ger- 
hard. He was much happier than formerly, for Ger- 
hard'had changed for the better, and Engeline’s hus- 
band supported her. 


264 


THE WORKINGMAN’S WIFE 


“Well, have not your men attempted to strike yet ?” 
he often asked Wenzel in jest. 

“No,” was the gay reply. “It would do them lit- 
tle good. I would tell them how badly it resulted 
for me; and, moreover, I learned from you how one 
can maintain one’s rights. Now too — now I listen 
to my wife’s advice.” 


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No. 20. In The Depths W. Heimburg 

No. 21. Ships that Pass in the Night Beatrice Harraden 

No. 22. Love Letters of a Worldly Woman Mrs. W. K. Clifford 

No. 23. Regine Hermann Sudermann 

No. 24. A Yellow Aster Iota 

No. 25. A String of Amber Beads Amber 

No. 26. The Workingman’s Wife F. Fredericks 

No. 27. Vendetta Marie Corelli 

t 

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276 AND 278 FRANKLIN STREET 


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